Showing my Rear...

Literally. Well, let me preface this with some background info:

Ethan, who has struggled a bit with the realization that he cannot show his superpowers at school (i.e. You can't hit somebody just because he/she is standing where you want to be), is on the sticker system.

If he has a good day, he gets a sticker. If he collects five stickers in a week, then we do something special, which usually involves Target, as he believes that Target was made specifically for his enjoyment.

Now, back to the funny stuff:

Friday afternoon, we celebrated our first five-sticker week with a trip to Target after dinner. Sounds simple enough, right? We pull into the parking space and start to unload the kids. As usual, we park next to a buggy thingy (because this makes the most sense to me, as I'm usually alone, with two kids and bags to unload... If I'm next to the cart thingy, I can put up my cart with minimal risk that some freak is going to try to steal one of my kids.)

I grab a buggy and roll it back to the car for Laney. Ethan is following close behind me. I'm thinking he's being a good little pumpkin.... He has other ideas.

As I approach K and Laney, a car turns down the aisle. Now my back is to the car, but it's headlights were huge and completely engulfed our little family in light... right about the time Ethan pulls the back of my dress up, fully extending his arms over his head and giggles, "Mommy, I see your hiney!"

Yes, son, so did every customer in the Target parking lot.

I was mortified, of course, because 1) I don't normally show my rearend like that and 2) I was wearing non-show-off quality undies. Not ugly, but definitely more comfy that cute.

At this point, K. was laughing so hard he was about to cry, Ethan thought he'd done something hysterical because his daddy was so tickled, and Laney was shrieking and cackling with no clue as to what was so funny.

I, on the other hand, was contemplating digging to China while wondering if such escapades were included in the Mommy Handbook chapters that I skipped...

My question is, "Why does this always happen to the Mommy?" I mean, I carry you in my belly, get stretch marks and all sorts of grossness, get up with you in the middle of the night and early on Saturday mornings. I take you to the park and to playdates. I buy your clothes and food and toys.

Why can't, for once, you pull your dad's pants down or something instead of lifting my dress or pulling the neck of my sweater down to expose my hoo-hoos to the elderly gentleman in the Brooks Brothers store? Vomit on your dad at work or ask him, while in the public restroom, if he has to go stinky or why the person next to him in the stall is making those silly noises.

Believe me, I'm tallying up the score. You just wait until you're about 15 and realize that we aren't as cool as you once thought.

It's gonna be on like Donkey Kong....