JohnRingold

My little guy, Cade, is quite a talker. He loves to

> communicate and

> does

> it quite well. He talks to people constantly, whether

> we're in the

> library, the grocery store or at a drive-thru window.

> People often

> comment on how

> clearly he speaks for a just-turned- 3-year-old. And

> you never have to

> ask him to turn up the volume. It's always fully

> cranked. There've

> been

> several embarrassing times that I've wished the

> meaning of his words

> would have been masked by a not-so-audible voice, but

> never have I

> wished this more than last week at Costco.

>

> Halfway, through our shopping trip, nature called, so

> I took Cade with

> me into the restroom. If you'd been one of the ladies

> in the restroom

> that evening, this is what you would have heard coming

> from the second

> to the last stall:

>

> "Mommy, are you gonna go potty? Oh! Why are you

> putting toiwet paper

> on

> the potty, Mommy? Oh! You gonna sit down on da toiwet

> paper now?

> Mommy,

> what are you doing? Mommy, are you gonna go stinkies

> on the potty?"

>

> At this point I started mentally counting how many

> women had been in

> the

> bathroom when I walked in. Several stalls were full

> ... 4? 5? Maybe we

> could wait until they all left before I had to make my

> debut out of

> this

> stall and reveal my identity.

>

> Cade continued, "Mommy, you ARE going stinkies aren't

> you? Oh, dats a

> good girl, Mommy! Are you gonna get some candy for

> going stinkies on

> the

> potty? Let me see doze stinkies, Mommy! Oh ... Mommy!

> I'm trying to

> see

> in dere. Oh! I see dem. Dat is a very good girl,

> Mommy. You are gonna

> get some candy!"

>

> I heard a few faint chuckles coming from the stalls on

> either side of

> me. Where is a screaming new born when you need her?

> Good grief. This

> was really getting embarrassing. I was definitely

> waiting a long time

> before exiting.

>

> Trying to divert him, I said, "Why don't you look in

> Mommy's purse and

> see if you can find some candy. We'll both have some!"

>

> "No, I'm trying to see doze more stinkies. Oh! Mommy!"

> He started to

> gag

> at this point. "Uh oh, Mommy. I fink I'm gonna frow

> up. Mommy, doze

> stinkies are making me frow up!! Dat is so gross!!"

>

> As the gags became louder, so did the chuckles outside

> my stall. I

> quickly flushed the toilet in hopes of changing the

> subject. I began

> to

> reason with myself: OK. There are four other toilets.

> If I count four

> flushes, I can be

> reasonably assured that those who overheard this

> embarrassing

> monologue

> will be long gone.

>

> "Mommy! Would you get off the potty, now? I want you

> to be done going

> stinkies! Get up! Get up!" He grunted as he tried to

> pull me off. Now

> I

> could hear full-blown laughter. I bent down to count

> the feet outside

> my

> door.

>

> "Oh, are you wooking under dere, Mommy? You wooking

> under da door?

> What

> were you wooking at, Mommy? You wooking at the wady's

> feet?"

>

> More laughter. I stood inside the locked door and

> tried to assess the

> situation.

>

> "Mommy, it's time to wash our hands, now. We have to

> go out now,

> Mommy."

> He started pounding on the door. "Mommy, don't you

> want to wash your

> hands? I want to go out!!"

>

> I saw that my "wait 'em out" plan was unraveling. I

> sheepishly opened

> the door, and found standing outside my stall, twenty

> to thirty ladies

> crowded around the stall, all smiling and starting to

> applaud. My

> first

> thought was complete embarrassment, then I thought,

> "Where's the fine

> print on the 'motherhood contract' where I signed away

> every bit of my

> dignity and privacy?"

>

> But as my little boy gave me a big, cheeky grin while

> he rubbed bubbly

> soap between his chubby little hands, I thought, I'd

> sign it all away

> again, just to be known as Mommy to this little

> fellow.

A teacher is explaining biology to her 1st grade students.

"Human beings are the only animals that stutter", she says.

A little girl raises her hand. "I had a kitty-cat who stuttered", she volunteered. The teacher, knowing how precious some of these stories could become, asked the girl to describe the

incident. "Well", she began, "I was in the back yard with my

kitty and the rottweiler that lives next door got a running start and before we knew it, he jumped over the fence into our yard!" "That must've been scary", said the teacher. "It sure was", said the little girl. "My kitty raised his back, went 'Fffffff, Fffffff, Fffffff, Fffffff'. And before he could say "F $@K", the rottweiler ate him!"