FW: Here we go again....

Since I have an upcoming wedding coming up for a very dear friend of mine I am actually preparing ahead of time to make sure I don't miss out on this event. I have already booked my hotel room asked for days off and have even gone as far as buying a dress. I don't normally blog about the chitlin Patrick because I wouldn’t want to become a "Mommy Blogger" and go on the defense about doing it and come after Sherri *Like the whole Blogher Fiasco*.

Anyway, we went to Nordstrom which I don't get to shop at to often most of my clothes consist of what ever I found in the Macy's sale shoe rack, Ross and Old Navy (who else do you know that can rock a $5 skirt and make it look like a million bucks?*. I used to be a big Nordstrom/The Broadway/Robinson-May fan when it was coming from the Banco de Mom & Dad. So I picked him up early from school because we were going into The Grove of Los Angeles . He is my carpool buddy. Traffic was horrid and we made it horribly late. I had put a hold on this dress because I didn't want to drive 40 miles and waste 3 hours without it being there.

I get there, I try on the dress it needs some alterations. The salesgirl goes to get the tailor. In the dressing room Patrick says "Mel, you look like a princess." Oh sweet boy! In the meantime Patrick is sprawled out on the floor. No big deal. He lets out a little fart. Not cool. I tell him to stop it. The tailor comes and makes measurements and says she needs to go grab something. Again Patrick is sprawled out on the floor. The sales girl comes to check on me to make sure everything is okay. And this is how it goes….

Patrick turns around and looks at her.

Salesgirl: Oh he has such beautiful eyes! He's so cute.

Patrick lets out a huge stinky fart.

Me: But he is so disgusting.

Salesgirl: But at least he is cute when he is disgusting.

Patrick giggles.

Me: Do you have any air freshener?

Yeah, that was great. Patrick got the giggles from seeing how embarrassed I was. When we left the store I asked him "Why do you far so much?" He said, " I don't know. I just do." 4-year-old logic at its best kiddies.

Now Aaron and I have to go back and get the alterations redone. No chitlin in tow.