What a difference a year makes

Almost one year ago to the day, we experienced the notorious IKEA disaster. In the 362 days that have followed, J and I have seen our enthusiasm for various outings tempered by a underlying terror that they just migh not work out as planned, and we just might end up feeling like deplorable excuses for parenthood. And, specifically when visiting IKEA, we always make absolutely sure that E knows that - while we will ply her with as many meatballs as she can pack in that expansive tummy and as much time as she likes in the children's section with the egg chair and the comfy beds, she is not quite yet tall enough for that decidedly heinous and disgustingly exclusivist area called Smäland. Oh, that's right. Since our last visit, IKEA Ottawa has expanded to be the biggest IKEA ever in the history of Swedish common sense, and what was once a modest little room full of balls is now a goddamn carnival ride of fun that is visible from far too many vantage points, if you ask me. In any case, she has been astoundingly mature about the whole thing, reiterating that she's not tall enough just yet and that's ok. She doesn't get that from me. Well, the shortness, yes. I'm talking about the blasé acceptance of one's own shortcomings. I don't know where that comes from.

And off I go into mindless warbling...

Ahem.

So. We've been measuring and it looks like we've been just about there for a while, but I've been resistant because I still bear the emotional scars of the first attempt, and also because for some reason I am incapable of mounting a growth chart to the wall in such a manner as to obtain an accurate measurement of one's growth. In other words, various forces were going to have to collide in order for me to take the big leap.

This week I'm feeling rather indignant in general, so that's helpful. Also, we really need bookshelves. Furthermore, after this week our use of the car on my days off will be terminated for the rest of the summer as J heads to CHEO for a Pediatrics rotation. Stupid kids. So, after some careful consideration and plenty of soul-searching, we went for it. 

I won't keep you in suspense...

SUCCESS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Whew. And would you believe, just to keep me in line, the IKEA gods had one more trick to play on me. 

Me: Look! You're EXACTLY the right height! (Thank goodness for the 1/8" heel on those sandals...)

E: Yay! Yay! Let's DO IT!!!

Lady who was *this close* to getting her ass kicked (verbally, of course): Now, does she have socks??

Me: blank expression...crickets...Does she need socks?

Lady: Mmhmm. *smile*

Me: increasing heart rate...crickets...Do you have socks?

Lady: Well, no. But I just found a pair that someone had left behind...but we're definitely not supposed to -

Me: Sold. Let's have 'em. 

I'll take a case of athlete's foot over losing Round 2 to those Swedish bastards any day. 

After I picked her up, E waved to the Lady Who Doesn't Know How Close She Came To Eating It over her shoulder and called out "Bye! Maybe we'll see you again tomorrow!" With socks.