American In Norway has a humorous post on her blog, about mortifying moments.
You know, those moments that many of us have experienced. It seems that once you have kids and grand kids, the opportunities for mortification become ... numerous.
She invites us to recount the best of those moments, then leave a comment on her blog and she will link back to us. This could really be fun. :-)
Mine came, a number of years ago, at the hands of my, at the time, 2 yr old Middle Son. The twins, then 9 months old, were taking a rare morning nap, so I decided to have a quick shower.
Settle Middle Son down with his favourite toys. Made sure windows and doors were all locked. Told him where I'd be and gave the usual admonitions about not answering the phone and if anyone knocked on the door he was to come and tell Mummy.
Left bathroom door ajar, so I could hear twins screaming,smell smoke and so on. What I obviously didn't hear, however, was the knock on the door or the sound of Middle Son dragging stool to front door.
Hopped out of shower. Realised that I'd left the towels and my clean clothes in my bedroom.
Sauntered out of the bathroom in all my naked glory and suddenly became aware of a cool breeze on my nether regions. At the same moment Middle Son yelled with glee "Me clever, Mummy! I open door" and I looked up into the wide open, slack jawed gaze of two, clean-cut, very young, male, Mormon Missionaries.
At that point I did the only thing that was open to me, I gathered my tattered dignity around me, smiled and said "Hi, I'll be right back." and sprinted for the bedroom.
When I came out again, wrapped in my dressing gown, the door was still open. Middle Son was still looking proud of himself and my visitors were beating a hasty retreat up my front path.
My mind kind of boggles as to what the discussion was like at the local MM training school. All I know, is that from then on, whenever any came up our street, they would pause at the top of our front path, look down, murmur to each other and then walk quickly by.
12 hours ago