missing link mall walks

How can one be upset when a painted child yells "I am the Incredible of the Hulk!", right after being told "please, for the love of potatoes, PLEASE don't rub paint on yourself". How can I get upset at this:


So bathtime presents itself for the second time in one day. Grrrrrrrrr. Good thing all our utilities are included in the rent. Damn kid, you will be lucky if you take one bath a month when we start footing the bill.

That's right kiddo, channel the mermaids. Mermaids are somewhat easier for mommy to clean up after:

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Gigi yelled at me to "sit and spin" today. I'm going to assume she meant, sit in my office chair and spin around for entertainment purposes - something we've done since she was a wee one.

Or at least that's what I hope she meant.

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This weekend I discovered a whole breed of humans that I did not know existed.

I call these people the "early mall dwellers" which are nothing like the "early mall walkers" who I already knew existed from my years as a retail bottom feeder cursed with the opening shift.

Most know the early mall walkers - those are the ones that gravitate to the mall before opening hours to walk themselves into an early grave. They tend to have hair turned blue from lack of sunlight and loose skin from all that damn walking. They also smell kinda like A5*35 which while intoxicating when on a specimen that resembles George Clooney, has the underpinnings of decay on the early mall walkers.

They walk in circles in what I believe is a death march of sorts, hoping that they meet their maker somewhere near a dignified spot such as Laura Secord or Banana Republic, as opposed to Le Chateau or Dollarama where their bodies may be dragged off by a wild pack of teenagers, never to be seen again.

Anyhow...

This new breed of early mall dwellers fascinates me. These dwellers gravitate towards the food court area of the mall landscape on Sunday mornings, also before the stores open like the mall walkers, and wait for what I discovered is: the uncaging of the fast food kiosks. They tend to be males in their 30s and with each of them, a minimum of one ankle biter - usually the kind that springs from a stroller whenever it stops - the kind that needs to be monitored closely for break-aways.

I felt very Jane Goodall when we tripped upon them this past weekend. Gigi and I silently integrated ourselves among these folks to see what they were waiting for. We soon discovered they were waiting for the food to start frying so they could enjoy what I can only assume is forbidden foods in the home, plus let the kidlet run free with minimal impact on society or safety regulations.

Pure Genius.

I think we will join them again soon.

Obviously this breed of people I have uncovered know where it's at. Deep fried breakfast, free indoor play space for sprogs, and enough table space to spread out the newspaper AND actually get it read because sprog are entertaining each other.

Like I said: pure genius. I think I found my Sunday morning people.