Walmart Hall of Shame

In my childless days, mainly the ones after miscarriage and before Little Miss, I would joke with friends that every time I was down about our situation, I only needed a good dose of Walmart to make me thankful I was still in my care free days.
Nothing like wild, screaming childred and their wild, screaming parents along with little puddles of urine on the floor to make the kid thing appear a little less appealing.
Now that I am in the thick of toddlers and another pregnacy, I fit right in at Walmart.
Although I must say, my kids and I aren't screamers...at least not so much in public...wink, wink.
But during LM's potty training days, we had our share of puddles at Wally World.
Last week, however, our family entered the Walmart Hall of Shame.
We only needed to make a quick stop: tights for LM's upcoming recital. For whatever reason, I insisted we make it a family affair, although I could have easily been in and out myself.
Grandpa came along (he wanted to get Mr. Man some doughnuts) but sat in the van while we ran inside. Mr. Man wanted to look at something real quick, so he took Fo, I took LM and we agreed to meet up in a few.
LM and I made it to the meeting place early and I was quickly distracted by things on the shelves. I heard Fo crying and sent LM to wave down Daddy.
He didn't come right to us.
I stepped out, stood on tip-toe to make eye contact (a big family was right between us) and waved him over before ducking back behind the shelves.
Minutes later, I looked back around the corner and saw him standing right where he was before.
Curious.
I grabbed Lm and began to walk his way and saw the two ginormous puddles at their feet.
Red ones.
We had enjoyed watermelon after dinner.
And apperntly Fo was in the mood to share. All over Daddy, herself and the floor.
A panicked, sickened employee was helping Dic to block the masses from trudging through our mess. He was jittery and sweating, poor guy.
Finally the hazmat crew (little lady with cleaning cart and a scoul)arrived and we were given clearance to walk away.
I had stripped Fo of her shirt, but her jeans were still covered and she was in good spirits, so we let her walk to the clothing section to find her pjs to wear home.
Walk of Shame...shirtless, messy kid and we're walking along as if all is right in the world.
You know when you care too much about what strangers think, want to explain, know you can't, so you talk brightly, and LOUDLY to your children about what's happening??
Yup, that was me.
Poor Dic walked with his puke covered self straight and tall and proud.
Little Miss and I made sure not to stand down wind.
We found some pjs and in the midst of changing her, I noticed a not so pleasant aroma wafting from her diaper. I asked Dic if if would really be so much worse than all we had exxperienced to change her right there. He gave me "the" look and, with a sigh, I scooped her up to find a bathroom.
So now pantless, I carried her through the store.
On our way, I encountered the Hazmat crew.
She knew and I knew that she knew that the babe in my arms had just ruined her night.
Walk of Shame, I tell ya.
Surprisingly, Little Miss has asked to please go to Walmart every day since.