Sometimes I’m lazy and it pays off, like when I don’t feel like getting off the couch and Wes bring me a water refill and then the water tastes better because everything tastes better when someone else gets it for you.
Sometimes, however, laziness bites me right on the meatiest part of my backside. I took Aidan to run a few errands today and we made it to our last stop, Barnes & Noble, without incident (I wanted to pick up a book of crossword puzzles for our upcoming vacation. What has four letters and fits this sentence: Erika is a huge ____. Hint: The third letter is an R).
I was tired from schlepping him in and out of multiple stores, and when I saw that his stroller was way back in the third row seat, just out of reach, I decided to just carry him. It was going to be a quick stop, in and out. No need for a stroller,
Or so I thought.
I decided to make use of the restroom facilities before completing our shopping, so I set Aidan down in the handicapped stall with me and tried to do my business as quickly as I could. Fiendishly fast troublemaker he is, though, he managed to dip his hand into the toilet water of the public restroom in the .00025 seconds it took me to undo the top button on my pants.
His hand. Was in. The toilet.
UNKNOWN FECES CONTRIBUTORS.
You know that screen that comes on the television when they’re testing the emergency broadcasting signal? That’s what flashed through my brain the instant his hand touched the water. It was all I could do not to improvise a Silkwood Shower for him on the spot. My brain was screaming “Bleach his hand! Bleach it! Bleach it good!” But my common sense was there too, so I settled for good old-fashioned soap, water, and some more soap and water.
So now all I can hear in my head is George Bluth’s voice telling me, “And that’s why you always bring a stroller.”