Paul and I made a break from the house during a Saturday morning rain storm with the kids in tow. After some minimal-bank-account-damage shopping, we went to a local eatery for some lunch.
My food cravings are out of control. I wanted potatoes! So, without thinking, I ordered fries AND potato skins for a nice little carb/grease double whammy. I will never eat potatoes again. And I've banned the kids from saying the "p" word for a least another week. Even hearing the word makes the vomit start to rise.
Paul had the steak, Aidan a hot turkey sandwich and Kenzie opted for poutine.
After we were good and full (read: food coma), we took the kids to see the new Dream Home. Our city has several "Dream Homes" which are built and tickets are sold in support of local hospitals. It's fun to go and look at the show homes to see what a million dollars of home construction and design looks like. The kids always run around declaring what bedroom would be "theirs" if we won the house (which is always the master bedroom - hey, what can I say, my kids have good taste).
We'd just arrived, and were touring the formal dinning room when 11-year old Kenzie turned to Paul and I, and in a louder-than-it-needed-to-be voice annouced that she had a case of "the runs." She ran to the only operational and open-to-the-public washroom where she stayed for our entire tour of the house.
Being the ever supportive step-mom that I am, I pretended I didn't know my step-daughter and quickly ducked into the urber-garage. That poor million dollar bathroom probably never knew what hit it.
