So, I’m driving home with Husband and The Swimmy this evening from a light dinner. (Husband has been fighting a head cold and we determined this called for soup. We were on a soup quest.)
I’m recounting for Husband my massage exploits of yesterday when I get the distinct feeling, no, URGE, that I suddenly have to pee. At least I think I have to pee. It sure feels that way. Like RIGHT THIS VERY SECOND.
Husband looks at me like I’m really going to pee all over his car seat (which, I believed at that point actually could happen) and I ask him to pull over somewhere nearby so I can go to the bathroom.
I get Husband to pull over pretty immediately into the local ice cream shop. Where I dash in and realize I’m probably going to have to buy something on the way out so I don’t look like a nutcase who entered the establishment walking cross-legged and left upright.
Whatever. I pee, but it doesn’t really fix the problem. I realize it’s Wiggly laying in some cockeyed, screwed up position – probably STANDING on my bladder – and having a good ole time in there.
Let me ask you, is it possible to ground an infant the moment he’s born? ‘Cause I’m thinking his bassinet in the hospital is going straight to the time out corner.