Summer vacation. What to do? Take kids to Starbucks. Daily. Come with oreos. Three for each child, lest they feel deprived. Get vanilla steamers for three (with whip of course) and decaf vanilla latte for Perfect eldest son (Pes). He's drinking coffee!!! I am so proud. After a few minutes, kids start fidgeting what with all that sugar they've ingested in that three minute time period. Go to bank. Watch boys run around bank. Be embarassed. Let them have dum dums that are readily available in big bowl even though about five minutes earlier I said, "That's enough sugar for you for the whole week." Feel like sucky parent, try to tally how much nutritious food they've had this week. Have trouble.
Target time now!! Yes, we are WT. After all the shopping completed, we are waiting for various children to emerge from bathrooms and I spy a little boy, under two, blond, adorable, elmo overall shorts, big bruise on forehead in dollar section. He uses cheap foam mallets as a bat to hit millions of squishy ball-y things across the aisle. I look all around and cannot for the life of me figure out who his mother is. I plan to wait until she makes herself known lest someone decides to abscond with him while she gets her head out of her tush.
I see a likely suspect. Totally normal looking. Only likely in the sense that she is the only woman anywhere near the kid. I say "ma'am" four hundred and seventy two times before she looks up (when I am four inches from her face). I say, "Is that little blond boy yours?" She is two aisles and many paces away. "Oh yes," she says, "what is he doing?" Um, excuse me? Your kid is in diapers. I could have grabbed him and carried him far away by the time you actually got around to looking for him you idiot. "Oh Ayden," she says, "what a mess you made." In a rare moment when my kids decided to look well-trained, obedient and helpful, they started gathering all the mess the kid made with the balls and mallets and put them away (except not my four- year-old Stalin because he doesn't even try to pretend to be well-trained or obedient or helpful).
Then she said, "Oh thank you so much. I should have kept a closer eye on him! Thanks to your children for helping clean up the tremendous mess he made." Oh, except what she REALLY said was, "Let's go Ayden." Really? I mean, the girls on Teen Mom are better mothers than this lady (except you, Amber, you are kind of a sucky mother, sorry to throw you under the bus), and they are TEEN MOMS.
Yay!! I am not a sucky mom!
No comments:
Post a Comment