Mat time

The ever fragrant and highly intelligent Kim Kardashian tweeted her disdain recently, about a mother who changed her child at a table at a restaurant she was dining at. And it got me thinking about mat time.
Ah mat time. You know, the time where you lay your struggling, often squalling beloved child on the mat in order to rid them (and you) of the horrible odour that is permeating the room.
Of course there is nothing else you would rather be doing, or anywhere else you would rather be. But needs must, as they say.
Now I have to admit that seven years into this parenting gig I have never had to change my child on a restaurant table. Fortunately for me the opportunity has never arisen in that specific place.
But I will confess that “mat time” has taken place in a variety of locations, one of the most memorable being directly under the Eiffel Tower. I ensured that Husband took a photo of that special event and the photo will be shown at that particular child’s 21st. Such a sweet memory.
Mat time has occurred in the boot of our car, at local parks where I’ve hidden behind trees and of course on aeroplanes. Aeroplanes are just awesome for changing your child’s nappy aren’t they? All that wide open space sense the sarcasm.
Mat time on an aeroplane teaches a parent manual dexterity skills previously not needed. While the plane is lurching because of the sudden onset of turbulence, you manfully balance your foot against the door and with one hand try to prevent your precious offspring from rolling off the world’s tiniest change table; while you use the other to clean up the mess and evacuate the are properly. Then you have to dispose of said rubbish while trying to re-dress your little sweetheart who strongly objects to this invasion of their privacy.
It’s wonderful.
I can’t wait for Kim to have a baby. I know what gift I’m sending her for sure.