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Leaving our mark at Neiman Marcus

It’s a good thing that I am incapable of actually dying of embarrassment.

Because if I could, it probably would have happened on our recent trip to Neiman Marcus.

We went for lunch. The hubs, the Princess and myself. It was a lovely Sunday afternoon and Princess was wearing her most Princessy dress of all. It started out so perfectly.

We noshed on a tantalizing tomatoe bisque of some sort, my favorite pecan tuna salad, fruit and their famed cookies. And to top it off, an elegant glass of wine for the Mommy and the Daddy.

We strolled hand-in-hand through the store, riding the escalator up and down (at Princesses bequest) soaking in all of the gorgeous merchandise, sniggering about the outrageous price tags – and yet seeking something within our $190 gift card that we could blow it on.

The hubs was checking out the men’s cologne and Princess asked if we could ride the escalator again.

Of course we could. That was free after all.

So we left the hubs with the salesman who surely would be disappointed at his frugality, and rode to the top floor. That’s where the children’s department is — in case you are unfamiliar.

They always have the most unexpected and adorable things there so I suggested to Princess that we go see what they had today.

It did not disappoint. Within a nano-second she found a miniature pink grand piano to poke a few notes on.

angelina ballerinaAnd then we saw the huge Angelina Ballerina stuffed mice. One was nearly my height. As the Princess was hugging the bigger one and I was reminding her that it was so similar to her giant Phoebe Phillips ballerina bunny (okay, so I do shop there on occasion), she says to me…

…just as I hear the sickening sound of water dripping…

“Mommy! I having an accident!!!”

Oh please God, let it not be what I think it is…

Right there. On the carpet. In Neimans. In front of their best display. And not just a little, but a puddle at least 12 inches wide. I couldn’t stop the flow. I just had to watch it happen as if in slow motion.

Princess is visibly shaken.

I quickly scan the department to see if anyone saw us.

Do we make a run for it? Surely there was a security camera on us somewhere with guards laughing their asses off. They’d let us go with the shame of embarrassment as our only penalty wouldn’t they?

Conscious got the best of me. I couldn’t do it.

I told Princess everything was okay, accidents happen and to hold tight for just a tiny second. I found not one, but two saleswomen chatting together — just to double my misery and regret. I confessed that we are potty training and just had an unfortunate accident. Right. Over. There.

(Insert the whisper point here.)

With a thousand apologies, and receipt of their oh, so gracious comforting words, we whisked off to the restroom as fast as Princess’s wet stick legs would take her. Why when they pee on themselves do their knees not work? I dunno.

And then the text came: Where R U?

My reply: Peeing on the floor in kids dept

The hubs: Kidding? I’m going to the car.

Then another text from my uncle asking if we were at the baseball game.

Me: No, we are peeing on the floor in Neimans.

Unc: Okay, have fun.

I changed the Princess lickety split into a very un-Neiman’s outfit that was smushed in the bottom of my bag and to which hopefully made her completely unrecognizable and we tried to slither out of there. We bolted from the restroom and nearly steamrolled the saleswoman we had just unleashed a barrage of apologies on, and I was compelled to shower her with even more and offer to clean it up. She assured me, they’ve had worse things happen.

Of that, I am sure but I this much I also know. It will be a LONG time before we spend off the rest of that gift card.



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