------- Warning! Today's story story is gross. Really gross. --------
A couple of years ago, I told you guys the story of when I threw up in a Five Guys bathroom while pregnant and in the presence of my two little kids. There's a part of the story I left out, though. The part where the entire thing is clearly my husband's fault. (
If you haven't read the Five Guys story, it's right here.)
You see, it is OBVIOUS that if my husband had not refused to take our son into the men's room with him,
like a coward who is afraid of a little wiping, then I never would have projectile vomited all over a restaurant bathroom like a possessed person from a 70's horror movie.
But my husband, the handsome and stalwart Cap'n Coupon, claims that he has a perfectly good reason for still, to this day, refusing to take our kids into public restrooms. For that matter, he won't even walk them to the door and then wait outside until they're finished. He claims he was permanently scarred by an experience that occurred a few weeks before the Five Guys incident. I think his story is a convenient excuse to get out of a parenting duty he finds tedious and gross. You be the judge, my friends.