I went clothes shopping for the first time in a long time the other day.
It wasn't for fun, but for Mr. Buttons' communion. Seemingly their God would disapprove of my banana-stained maxi skirt and equally cheerful black, shapeless top. Go figure...
I, of course, brought Captain with me.
I was very clever and prepared by taking potential clothes options with me in two sizes, knowing I'd only have one chance to attack the fitting rooms. (I have tantrums if contained in little cubicles with clothes for very long. Toddler would have been fine.)
I asked to use the actual changing room, rather than the curtained cubicles. No escaping toddlers here, I thought. And then I forgot to turn the handle to lock the door. The Captain waited until I was standing there in my underwear, nursing bra flaps open; then proceeded to open the door with great flourish.
Closed and locked the door.
Tried on outfit one.
Heard a weird beeping noise.
Tried on outfit two.
Heard "Manager to changing rooms!" over the loudspeaker.
Realised toddler had pulled emergency chord.
Tried on last outfit, opened door, apologised.
Bought outfit that somehow miraculously fitted and was able to nurse in.
And I already had shoes to match.
Where else would you get entertainment like this for 21 euro?
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