Does being a mom make any of you have a new-found awareness on NOT using the handicap stall in the restroom... you know, the one that typically houses the changing table?
On NOT going into the family restroom lest you have a cart full of goods and screaming/poopy/doing-the-potty-dance children in tow?
On NOT automatically taking the closest spot in the entire lot... or, more importantly, NOT cutting off the minivan in front of you with fingerprint-covered windshields and cheerios flying out the window in order to get that spot?
On NOT throwing a searing glare towards the mama whose kiddos are being on less than their best behavior at the restaurant?
On NOT harrumphing at the mom in line behind you, with some children's tylenol in one hand, and a rosy-cheeked, snotty-nosed, whiny, over-tired and under-the-weather munchkin on her hip as you s-l-o-w-l-y load your 1,478 items onto the belt?
Yeah... me, too.