This afternoon I had to go to the post office, which is housed in the corner of a grocery store, buy a birthday card for my son-in-law and some bread and drop the card and a bag of icing sugar, my DD#2 needed asap for her hubby's cake, off at her house and I had to do it all with The Three Year Old tagging along. Our first stop was at Shoppers for the card. I signed it, tucked his birthday cheque inside and sealed the envlope but not in that order. You see, The Three Year Old is little on the chatty side and he won't take uh huh for an answer which means I have to actually listen to what he's saying and give an apropriate response. I actually signed the card and sealed the envelope before I remembered that the cheque was still in my purse. Fortunately, I'd put lots of slobber on that flap so it didn't dry too quick and I was able to slip the cheque in without making too much of a mess.
Then we walked to the post office to mail a package and buy some bread. The postal powers that be have changed the weights or measurements or the procedure for mailing a package or something and the girl wasn't sure if she was doing it right so a supervisor had to be called. While we waited for the supervisor the girl asked The Three Year Old if he'd like a sticker and gave him a glittery, bright red Bertie the Bus sticker for the back of his hand. By the time the package had been dealt with there wasn't time to get the bread so we walked straight over the DD#2's place with the card and icing sugar.
While DD#2 and I chatted on her door step my grandson amused himself by peeling off and re-sticking Bertie the Bus to various parts of his anatomy. By the time we left most of the sticky was gone and he had lost interest so he gave it to good ol' Gramma. He stuck it on the back of my hand where I figured it had a 99% chance of falling off within the next five seconds.
We stopped in at the grocery store again for the bread *I had to do some fast talking past the donuts* and as our turn came to pay at the check out I hear the cashier squeal, "I know you!" at my grandson. I looked up to see the same girl who had served us at the post office counter. It wasn't until we were walking out of the store that I realized why she had been looking at me kinda funny. That Bertie sticker was still on the back of my hand, blazing red and glittering for all to see. I'm sure she thinks I stole it from him.
Ya, I know, it took me awhile but I finally got to today's embarrassing moment.