[Insert DJ Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince here] Summer, summer, summertime! Ahhhh, Memorial Day weekend in this beach resort town means one thing...tourists. I call it the Canadian invasion, as so many of VB's tourists hail from Quebec and Ontario. Lovely people, those Canadians, and without them and the other tourists from Pennsylvania, Ohio, and beyond, I'm not really sure what would happen to this city's economy.
However, their presence makes me dread going grocery shopping even more than I did before the unofficial start of summer. My children are like a ticking time bomb, and I prefer to get out of the store before detonation. But people on vacation don't blow through Walmart on a mission the way I do...they meander. They dawdle. They seriously test my patience.
So when Brynn tells me mid-shop she has to go to the bathroom, my blood pressure rises a bit. The gigantic cart I'm pushing that lets the two kids sit side by side is too massive to maneuver through the maze-like entrance to the ladies room, so I have to get not one but both children out of the cart, along with my purse, and get on with it. While Brynn is doing her thing, another woman goes into the stall next to us and proceeds to make all sorts of horrendous flatulent noises, with a few grunts thrown in for good measure. I try to get Brynn washed up and out of there before the woman emerges from her stall, but had no such luck. This lovely old lady takes one look at my girls and tells me how beautiful they are, and before I could politely thank her, Camryn looks her dead in the eye and says, "POOPY!" Welcome to our city. Enjoy your stay.
This kid's a piece of work!
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