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Last Sunday, Loren had a diaper incident shortly after we got to church which required changing. The "doorman" asked me, as I asked for the key while carrying a baby and a diaper bag, "Are you going to change her in there?"
"Yes, genius", I thought. I said simply, "Yes."
"You can't change a baby in there," he told me. "People have complained about the smell."
"Adult crap stinks too, and usually worse," I thought. I said, "I'll take the diaper with me. I won't leave it in there."
"People have complained," he insisted.
"Look," I said, "I have to change her. I can do it in the bathroom or I can just leave."
"Ok, ok" he said. "I'm just telling you people complained." But he did hand over the key, which was attached to a large piece of wood, like when you were in elementary school and had to carry a huge pass in order to be in the hall on the way to/from the bathroom. I briefly had visions of beating him to death with his own bathroom key, but I refrained. Barely.
So, fast forward to this week. We go to church and Loren is cranky. She won't settle down, so Cheryl and I have to walk her up and down the side of the church. I take over just before the homily, and because she is making noise I go out into the foyer where my good friend the doorman is.
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But it would have made me feel better.
NYC
3 comments:
Bwahahahahahahaha!!!!!!
My sides are killing me from laughing so hard. The irony of the vision of you beating the guy to death with his wooden key *in church* is just too much.
I hadn't even gotten to the second incident where you see it also.
Ahhh. I needed that. Thanks.
But what would Jesus do?
Oh, you DO need to snap a picture of this guy with your fancy phone. I have this image of the creaky voice kid from the Simpsons, but I'm sure thats not right :)
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