So, I need to pick up diapers for Woob’s daycare because I’ve forgotten the past few days and we’re in dire straits. So what harm could it do to go after daycare to pick some up real quick, boy in tow? I’ll only be a few minutes. (Yeah, RIGHT!)
My boy turned 20 months old yesterday. Such a big boy! Surely he can walk along with me while I hold his hand. He needs to get used to walking around next to me instead of me carrying him like a little baby all the time. He did a great job holding my hand, and happily chattered to me all through the parking lot, “Car, Car, Car. Mommy, Car.” My boy. So precious and smart. Yes, look at all the cars in the parking lot. And we walk through the gates of
hell W*l M*art, and he bolts away from me to the…CAR KIDDIE RIDE they keep there to torture parents everywhere entertain the young ones. “CAR, CAR, CAR!” “Mommy, CAR!” he says as he climbs in and plants himself at the steering wheel with NO intention of EVER coming out of the car, despite the fact that its not going because Mommy has no money. I have NEVER put my child in this contraption. However, I am now convinced that he was speaking of THIS car all the way in, and that he has seen it every time we’ve gone to the store for the past 20 months and was just looking for the right opportunity to break away and get into it.
I extricated him, just short of using the “jaws of life,” which of course ended in tears and a pouty lip, and as I am trying to make up for hurt feeling with Teddy Grahams (yes, I am occasionally THAT parent who soothes the hurt with food…), I run smack into Papa2Roo’s former girlfriend, who is looking at me with, I don’t know…pity?…satisfaction?…a little of both? “Oh, we’re well out of THAT stage in our family,” she says, with an implied “Thank God” at the end just hanging there. I mumble something about something and go on my way. But the thing about seeing people in a store is that you keep running into them throughout the trip. So a few aisles later, there she is again. “Oh, looks like he’s doing better now…” she says as my little man is grabbing for EVERY flippin’ thing he can get his hands on (because we really need to have 150 Spider man and Shrek products in the razor blade aisle, don’t we?). And then she does something strange, and starts right in on a weird and rude conversation about adoption…”My brother in law and his wife adopted a little girl from China and are waiting on their second. My little boy says he wants a little China Doll, too, and we thought about it, but then it takes so long, and by the time we got her then he wouldn’t want to play with her any more anyway, so what’s the point? And, you know, we’re out of that whole baby stage thing now anyway…” These were her words, people! Me, I’m speechless for a second, and after picking my jaw up from the floor, managed to spit out something like, “Well it sounds like that’s for the best,” while in my head I’m screaming OMG, OMG, OMG, are you kidding me? China Doll? So your son could have a playmate? China Doll?? What planet are you from that you think ANY of this discussion is okay??
I leave her and thankfully don’t see her again, but the Woob is getting restless with all this nonsense, and there are THINGS TO BE GRABBED so lets go thet them! “Hold it, hold it!” he says with each new thing I put in the cart. So I give him an item to hold. Seems like mushroom soup is a pretty benign thing for someone his age to hold on to, what can it hurt, right? Until he licks the top of the can. Ewww. My son now has Ebola or some such thing from doing this, I’m convinced. I’ll let you know how that works out.
Finally, we make our way to the checkout and I start planning our exit. I will be leaving through the exit WITHOUT a kiddie car, and my child will be safely secured in the cart. We will then walk all the way to the other end of the parking lot outside, and I’m sure he’ll never notice, because after all, I am smarter than a 20 month old. So we do just that, and the closer we get to the other end the faster he starts saying “car, car, car, car!” “Car, car, car, car!!” I’ve tricked no one. He’s on to my game, but lets me get by with putting him in the carseat for the trip home. I’m tired, my head hurts, and I know Papa2Roo will not be home when I get there, so supper and bath are my job tonight.
And that quick trip to W*l M*art for diapers?? Cost me almost $80. Isn’t that always the way?