Thursday, February 16, 2006


We may never get another pizza delivered after this...

It was my turn to bring the boys home from daycare last night. Unlike last week's fiasco, where I towed them in the wagon the 3/4 of a kilometer home in -10C, only to realize I had forgotten my keys, and so promptly decided to drag the boy-filled wagon another kilometer or so to show up uninvited to my parents house for dinner, this time we made it home in plenty of time to leisurely dial up a pizza for dinner.

While we were waiting for dinner to arrive, I sorted through a few days' accumulation of mail. One piece was a cardboard fold-out ad for those new Kandoo wipes from Pampers, complete with coupon, storyboard, and 20 or so stickers. The storyboard showed the importance of wiping, flushing and washing your hands, and the stickers, each about the size of a quarter, were supposed to be used to reward each of those tasks.

Since Tristan continues to excel in his potty achievements, and since we are several tonnes of non-compostable waste away from training Simon, we didn't have much use for the stickers, so I let the boys play with them while I snoozed sorted through the rest of the mail. Before long, the stickers were all over Tristan, Simon, the dog, the end table, the couch, and me.

By happy coincidence, the stickers ran out just about the time that the doorbell rang to herald the arrival of the pizza. It was a new pizza dude, not our regular guy, and I have to admit, I was a little disconcerted by his rather obvious glances from my chest to my face and back again. It was so obvious that I almost said something, but in the end just stiffed him on his tip and closed the door.

It was only when I got into the kitchen and started cutting up a slice of pizza for Simon that something colourful on my shirt caught my eye. I looked down at my chest, and hoped desperately that the pizza dude has kids of his own. How else could I possibly explain that I was covered in stickers of this image?