Wednesdays are my long day at work. I work between 9 1/2 to 10 hours. The last thing I want to do when I get home is make dinner.
So last night I took the boys out to Applebees.
Everything was going fairly well. When all of a sudden Brian stands up in the booth and says quietly, “Ohno, ohno, ohno, ohno. Imma imma imma wet!” I look down and there is a tiny spot of liquid on his shorts. He didn’t spill anything, just the condensation on the outside of his cup had rubbed against the fabric.
Trying to use my calmest voice I reassure him, “Oh it is a little wet. It’s fine though Brian.” Inside my head I’m thinking, “Once again I didn’t pack extra clothes. The kid is going to strip and I’m going to have to take off my cardigan and figure out how to make shorts with it.” (True story, actually it’s happened quite a few times.)
Brian’s voice becomes a bit louder, “Imma Wet!!”
A couple of minutes pass and he yells it really loud, “IMMA WET!!”
People are starting to look over at us as I’m trying to blot the nonexistent-wet spot and my seven-year-old child is jumping on the seat and flapping his hands and repeating, “IMMA WET! IMMA WET!”
I place my hands on his cheeks, pull his face to mine, and say, “I know you’re wet but we’re inside and you need to use an inside voice. It’s all dry now. You need to sit down.”
He smiles at me, like a laughing smile, and whispers, “Imma wet”, and then sits back down. He sits down and just starts giggling.
I think he got a kick out of his little show he put on.
I want to celebrate that he didn’t strip in public. However, I’m a tad fearful that he is starting to find his public outbursts humorous.