You guys probably don't know about my multiple-year-long search for a non-ugly vinyl tablecloth.
Well, it's true. I've been looking, no DREAMING, of a pretty vinyl tablecloth that I can throw over our scratched up table. Dreaming of the ease with which I would wipe it clean after meals, not having to worry about all the little nooks and crannies on our wooden table. But every one I have found has featured either a garish primary color pattern or a plaid patriotic theme, which, while fun on Fourth of July, seems out of place most of the rest of the year.
So imagine my delight when the kids and I ran into Ross the other day to pick up some warm blankets for Charlie and James's beds (the temperatures have stubbornly refused to get out of the forties for the last four weeks and I am having to admit that it might actually be winter and time to add blankets to the kids' sheet/quilt combos, but we only had one twin size blanket that Wes got for some reason) while on the way to the pediatrician and while browsing through the housewares department found THIS balled up in a bag and shoved to the back of a clearance shelf.
FOR TWO DOLLARS! JACKPOT!
AND, it's so long that it will fit on the table even when I add the leaf. SWOON.
I bought it and found some blankets and we continued on to the pediatrician WHERE I WOULD PAY DEARLY FOR MY GOOD FORTUNE.
First, one of the elevators was broken which meant my awesome parking space was not so awesome and I had to herd everyone down the long, LONG hall to the other elevator and then back up the long, LONG hall on the second floor to get back to the pediatrician's, which ten feet from the broken elevator (that was ten feet from my car).
Then, the pediatrician (Dr. Pediatrician changed practices and while I am OK with his replacement I don't LOVE her like I did the old one, in a slightly stalkerish fangirl kind of way) took "a tone" when discussing James's 75th %ile height/90th %ile weight stats (You've switched him to skim milk, right? Well OK just make sure you're not giving him junk food! I looked at my shoes as I recalled our donut stop on the way in). Combined with his 90th %ile head I think we'll start calling him "Tug". As in "boat". I did not relay that thought to the doctor.
The next conversation was also not fun. He knows fifty words right? Um, I'd say probably about half that. I mean, he's fluent at yelling at the dog and screaming "NO" when I ask him to put a shirt on, but he still calls water, milk, maple syrup, Tylenol, honey, juice, and shampoo "milk". But his receptive language is spot on!
And then while making our way back down the long, LONG hallways to the car James had a full-on screaming, kicking floor tantrum right in front of a group of (openly!) judgy senior citizens (I would not let him use the water fountain. In a medical office building. During flu season. I'm so mean). Note, next time anticipate broken elevator and bring stroller! I avoided their disapproving tsk tsking and scooped him up.
We ran out of there and went home quick before something else happened.
But at least we had a cute tablecloth!