Mall of America

Yesterday, Cory, Chase and I went to the Mall of America to Sea Life (But, I still call it Underwater World because I’m stuck in the 90’s, because frankly that was the decade that flattered me the most- I was under 80 pounds with a stunning bowl cut struttin' around in multicolored wind-suits- What was not to love?).

After we spent an over abundance of time dodging sharks and jellyfish, it was time to hit up the food court (which is actually the real reason why I enjoy going to the Mall of America.  Who doesn't love 15 restaurants at your disposal within spitting distance of each other?- it’s like an indecisive person’s dream).  Before eating, I took Chase into the bathroom with me to change his diaper and wash his hands.  While waiting in line for the changing table, Chase slithered like a snake out of the bottom of the stroller and made a break for it.  All I could see was his blonde curls flying in the wind, and his arms flailing in every direction. (Have you ever seen Febe from Friends run?  Yes, my child runs like a 30 year old gangly woman.)  However, I was able to cling onto the back of Chase’s sweatshirt just before he turned the corner to enter the Men’s restroom (I still maintain that Chase ran there on purpose knowing full well I couldn’t enter).  I felt like I was on a tv show playing in slow motion as I dove for him yelling, “Noooo,” ya know, right before someone dodges in front of a loved one to take a bullet for them.  Well, although my dive wasn’t nearly as heroic, I did end up wrangling Chase away from the restroom.

I marched him right over to Cory and told Cory what happened.  Cory calmly asked Chase why he ran away from Mommy in the bathroom and almost went into the Men’s bathroom.  Chase’s response, “Me a Man.” 

I guess it is hard to scold a child when he is just trying to decipher between which bathroom is gender appropriate for him to use- although, I do think you need to be out of diapers before security will be called on him for entering the Women’s restroom. 

Any who, our food court adventure doesn’t end there:  If I wasn’t embarrassed enough about my child’s ability to dart like a cheetah (and my not-so-cheetah like abilities to keep up with him) through the mall, I should be embarrassed about his lack of continental knowledge.       

As we were sitting down to devour Chinese food like the vultures that we are, Chase looks up at the sky (well, actually the skylights) and then back at me with his spoon, full of fried rice and asks inquisitively, “Mommy, is this the Americas?” I just looked at him, leaned down and whispered out of embarrassment of the question, hoping that the grey haired couple next to us wasn't following our conversation and said, “Actually Honey, we are at Mall of America, eating Chinese food.”  Well, I guess there is nothing more American than retail shopping while munching on foreign cuisine.   

We can chalk this up to another successful Mall of America trip (yes, I am claiming this trip as a victory because all 3 of us made it home).