We turned up 90 minutes late to our little friend Luke's first birthday party today. I wrote the wrong time down on the calendar. In we swanned, ready to enjoy the festivities, and it was already over.
So we did the sensible thing and headed to Ikea. Handed Lola over to the Smaland attendees. Caught the lift with a woman and her seven-week-old twins. She looked glowy and bright and adrenaline-filled. I remember that. I hope I didn't sound too downcast when I said she had a big year ahead of her.
P and S sat contentedly in the pram. I whizzed through the obstacle course grabbing the handful of things I needed. People looked at the babies and looked at me. People always do that when you have two babies. I focused on the task at hand.
Then, tossing up between the Snalis and the Samla*, I glanced across to see an enormous oozing poo seeping out from the sides of Pearl's bloomers. Pretty little Pearl in her floral summer blouse. That's what the people were looking at. Would it have been all that difficult to tell me? I knew immediately I wasn't willing to forsake the shopping for a dash to the toilets, so I looked for a towel or something to drape over the mess. That was when I realised the poo was not only all over her bloomers and legs, but between her toes, on her hands, under her fingernails...between her eyebrows. Oh, Pearl.
So there, in the lighting section, about 20 wipes, two scented nappy disposal bags and half a bottle of instant hand sanitiser later, I cleaned up the mess. We made it to the checkout. I collected the big kid from Smaland. I loaded up the car. We drove home.
Ikea, you have thought of just about everything when it comes to shopping with kids - breastfeeding cubicles, nappy-changing rooms, food warming devices, childminding services - but did you think of this?
*I went with the Snalis.