OH NO. He did indeed.

We needed to get out of the house. It just won't stop f-ing raining. So we went to a little cafe down the road for lunch. The kids were sick of being inside and it sounded like a good idea . . . at the time.

We get seated and Nick starts screeching about wanting pizza. I convince him that a turkey sandwich is just as yummy as pizza. Then we get our food and the kids decide that it is acceptable to stand at the table and eat. It was all I could do to not knock their feet out from under them.

So. Then Nick yelled about having to poop. We abandoned poor Lucas at the table and rushed to the bathroom, only for him to pretend to poop. For what felt like five minutes. Loud, pretend grunting, occupying one of two stalls in a busy cafe. Yeah.

Back at the table Nick decides he's tired from all the "pooping". He SLID off his chair and onto the ground under the table. I wanted to disappear. People were staring. I was doing the whole grit-your-teeth-and-speak-slowly thing.

Back on top of the table, we received the check because it must have been obvious that we needed to leave.

I drag Nick up to the checker to pay. He stood there looking like an angel. Then as I signed my name I heard an old lady gasp. I looked down at Nick who was being too quiet, and saw him extend his entire arm up into the air with a single finger poking out. On that single finger was a huge nasty booger. Huge, you guys. I can't believe it came out of his tiny nose hole.

I gasped too and grabbed a napkin and quickly got rid of IT.

We left. Rapidly. I don't know that we will go back.

I don't care for the age of three.

(P.S. I totally forgot to tell you about Nick refusing to use his hands to eat and insisting on eating off the plate like a dog. AT THE RESTARAUNT. I, again utilized the gritted teeth. It happened somewhere between fake pooping and booger picking.)