Disney World Mall, I Only Wish It Was A Dream Edition

I did not dream this.  I actually lived it.

The mini-ninja was just barely potty-trained when we went to Disney World.  Our last day there, after he’d been so good about staying potty trained for three days on the road, we went to Animal Kingdom and took him to the Lion King show, and halfway through the show, he peed on me.  My pants soaked it all up, so hardly anything went on the floor, but I looked like I’d wet my pants.  Soooo could’ve used some ninja dream psychic power to see that coming.

Then he tripped and scraped his knee for the second time in three days, and he cried. And bled on me.  And cried.  And bled on Grandma.  And cried some more and bled some more.  So we finally got him calmed down and the bleeding stopped and rewarded him with a bug sundae.  (And I was disappointed that the bug sundae had gummy worms instead of gummy bugs in it, but that’s beside the point.)  All was cool with the mini-ninja and with the world.

Until he flipped the melted ice cream upside down and all over my foot.

So I left the mini-ninja with the ninja-spouse and headed to the bathroom where I stuck my whole foot, sandal and ice cream and all, right into the sink.  And then every stall door in that bathroom and the equivalent of an entire high school girls’ soccer team walked toward the sinks at once while I stood there in wet pants, blood-stained shirt, and ice cream all over my foot.

I take solace in knowing I was their public service announcement for the day, but really, I would’ve felt cooler if I’d just ninja-chopped all the badness in my dreams instead.

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