Sharing a private moment with you...

People sometimes ask me if I make things up to write about on my blog.

And I have to say…no. No, I don’t.

Some days, though, I wish I could say, “Oh, that? That didn’t *really* happen!” Ha. Ha.

Like today, for example.

I was in Walmart, and I was standing in the aisle, getting confectioners’ sugar. You know… for the delicious, decorated sugar cookies that we always *plan* to make for the neighbors, but with three kids ‘helping’, a majority of the cookies end up burned, broken, or frosted in weird colors. Which means that we keep a lot of broken reindeer legs and angel heads to dip in glasses of milk. Which usually means that I gain about 7 pounds over Christmas break.

Anyway, all of that is just to say that I was in the baking aisle. And 5 days before Christmas, it was cram-packed with people and grocery carts. So, as you probably know, in cases like that, it’s easiest just to leave your cart parked, and dart up and down the aisle, gathering the necessary items.

And of course, it’s easiest to just leave the kids standing next to the cart, while I flit around, grabbing sugar, vanilla, and flour.

No biggie, right?

Until I hear my son’s voice, above all the clamor, shouting to me…

“Hey, Mom! Look at my privates!”

Whaaaat? You know that saying about ‘wishing the ground would just open up and swallow you’? Um… yeah.

You could have heard a pin drop on that aisle, as peoples’ heads swiveled around, looking for the unfortunate mother. I was sorely tempted to duck into another aisle, but figured that would simply result in him shouting for me even more loudly.

And then again… “Mom, check out my privates!!”

And as I sprinted back to the cart, I saw him pointing to his two little ‘army guy’ action figures that he’d had in his pockets, and how they were now standing up on the shelf, next to the corn syrup.

His ‘Privates’.

Next time, he’s only going to be allowed to bring his Colonels.