Library Monday.
Noah knows it. I know it and the local librarian {LL} knows it. It's the same drill every week.
We hit the pavement and walk to the local shops. We grab a coffee and cupcake at our favourite deli.
And then we hit the library. Noah races ahead on his bike. I push the buggy with our book bag slung across the pram hood. It threatens to topple off every week. Too many books. Must borrow less, I mutter to myself.
We enter the library.
LL spots us from a distance and gives us a little wave. LL greets Noah, "hello Noah." It's a strained hello. It's a Monday. She is speaking quietly.
Noah is not. He shouts "hello LL" and proceeds to dump his bike in the doorway. He is at the DVDs. I pick up his bike and tend to his requests;
"Maaarrrmmmm, I want this one and this one and what's this one? Marrrrmm!"
"Noah, shhh". I remind him. I ask LL how her weekend was.
"Fine", she responds.
We read some books. We borrow the books. And I call out to LL.
"Thanks LL. See you next Monday."
Library Monday success. Off we go.
But not today. LL has something on her mind. She calls me over to the desk and asks me if I remember the day when Noah asked her if she had a baby in her tummy?
Oh god. I blush. Do I?
Of course I do. We missed a month of library Mondays as a result. Upon hearing his question, I cowered in the corner wishing I couldn't hear.
"Please god, strike me down with sudden deafness, or just take my ears, go on, take them." I pleaded.
Nope, no luck. I was forced to action.
I watched as LL laughed. Do something Jo. Come up with something. Anything.
I waffled something about him thinking everyone is pregnant. And hushed him whilst apologising.
LL cut me off. "No, I am fat".
Oh god. This is bad. Could it get any worse? "What's fat?" asks Noah.
Just got worse.
I can't remember her response because my own body conscious angels were cursing me for being a bad, bad parent.
I blush again at the memory. And reply to LL, "oh yeah he was obsessed with babies in tummies back then."
LL politely smiled. She knew better. She said "No, he was 3. He was just speaking the truth. I was fat. And because of him I am back enjoying the gym."
Oh. My. God.
I have died inside. My child forced her back to the grind of the gym. I feel bad. And I apologise. She laughs.
I say she looks great, which she does and I slink my way out the door.
Bloody toddlers and their questions. Looks like library Monday is on hold again for the next month.
Love Jo xx
What's your toddler asked a stranger? Have you ever wished you had no ears?