We had so much fun at a friend's birthday party. Going to Walmart in the afterglow of such happy bliss was, in retrospect, in poor taste. Far better to go before the party, when you have the threat of "Stop [whatever it is you're doing] or we won't go to the party!"
Nevertheless, we went to Walmart, sticky faces and all. Amy sat in the front of the cart and cried at me until I held her, leaving the seat vacant but my arm full. So I dragged the cart one-handed while Tanner and Kevin sat inside the main part, fighting. After enough screams from Kevin, I pulled him out (with one arm, of course) and made him the designated walker. Tanner remained in the cart, squishing the taco shells and other items that really were better not squished.
Kevin had brought with him a bouncy ball, a favor from the party. It had a mind of its own, and that mind thought it should make a bid for freedom by bouncing away from its squealing master and rolling down the asiles. After several of these escapes, Kevin decided it would be best to store the ball in his mouth. Of course this was when one of "those" people chose to speak up, voice full of scorn: "You know those balls are a choking hazard, and it was on the floor!"
I smiled and nodded and promptly walked away from her. I can't stand people who give me obvious advice in public.
Amy was by this time back in the seat and crying openly, so I tried to hug her while pushing the cart and calling for Kevin to follow while Tanner ground the 'Macaroni and Cheese' into 'Dust and Cheese.' Kevin, dizzy with the exhilaration of being the designated walker, was walking 50 paces behind us and often behind displays, so that by the time I reached the checkout I had no idea where he was. Amy was still crying and I had to shout "Kevin!" like one of those lunatic mothers who cannot control her children.
His ball rolling in my direction winked at me, letting me know that Kevin was on his way over. I pocketed the ball and picked up Amy to stop the crying. Kevin showed up and busied himself with spinning the round thing that Walmart uses to bag merchandise. Tanner came out to join him. While I was paying for the crushed merchandise, Kevin let out one of his patented screams and came running to me with his hand over his head, which had been bonked by a metal bag-holder on the spinning round thing.
The cashier smirked as she handed me the reciept and I put on a brave smile as I recommitted myself to keeping my cool. The boys obeyed (although Kevin gave a mutinous grunt) when I asked them to keep their hands on the cart, and we made it to the car.
The car.
Through the window, I could see quite clearly a new reason to despair. There, sitting smugly on the floor, the sunglight relfecting cheekily off the metal surfaces, were my keys.
Here the story had potential to get much, much worse, but I had charged my cell phone the day before, and my wonderful husband was able to get to us within ten minutes.
Man oh man oh man.
2 comments:
Ah, ha ha ha ha... I love it. Just one of those days. Mom
(This is Tom, not April...)
1. "...like one of those lunatic parents who can't control their children." Hee hee hee.
2. Seriously. The first time one of "those" people pipes up at me, I don't think I'm going to be able to do the right thing like you did. (You did, absolutely, the right thing.) I am preparing my response now so I'll be ready. One thought: "Do you mind if I take your picture?" That will catch them totally off guard. "What?" "Can I take you picture, for my blog? I have a blog about the obnoxious people who give obvious and unsolicited advice to strangers."
Or maybe I'd just let the kids bite him in the ankles. Give him rabies. That'll learn 'im.
3. This is just another reason I think it is highly irresponsible to ever leave the house without a cell phone. My children will have them when they go to kindergarten on Day One. With GPS and one speed dial to mom. (And by that, I mean "mom" in the context of my kids, not in the context of you and me as siblings who are having this conversation.) And no other dialing ability.
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