Adventures at Target

Lord knows every shopping experience with three boys is an adventure.  And it's hard. And slightly nerve wracking.  But buying groceries and picking up necessities is a part of life and I accept the difficulty that comes along with it.  And while most shopping trips are relatively uneventful, there are some that are terrible.  Nightmares.  Sweat-inducing, blood pressure-rising nightmares.


Like our latest trip to Target.


A summary of my hour...


We had two reasons to go to Target.
1.  Buy teacher's gifts for the preschool staff.
2.  Exchange a pair of shoes.


Only two reasons.  And yet I experienced so much more than gift shopping and shoe exchanging...


The boys insisted on buying their teachers jewelry.   Every adult should experience jewelry shopping with three young boys.  Boys with little to no taste in accessories. Really, how many times must one say, "Yes, Jack, that is pretty.  But I really don't think Mrs. Janet wants that lovely, very cubic zirconium  butterfly necklace."  Or "No, Sam, that is not a real seashell.  Let's look for something else."  Or "Jack, if I see you wrap one more necklace around your head, you're getting a spanking."


The girl's clothing section is a great place to play hide and seek.  And the boy's section is perfect for an intense game of tag.


The displays for t-shirts and shorts are on wheels.  And they will roll into the main aisle if you scale it to avoid being tagged.


A five year old boy can locate every greeting card that has bikini-clad blonde's,  animals with gas issues and hairy, overweight men wearing a wife beater and cut off jean shorts. Find them, remove them from the proper slot and announce loudly why he really needs you to buy each of them.


Did you know that you can climb on top of a flat screen television that is mounted to the wall? Jack does.


Try to explain why a blue ray movie doesn't work in your plain, old DVD player.  Try and try.  And try some more.  And then contemplate buying a blue ray player just to eliminate the "But why?" conversation you have every single time you pass the movie section.


See how many times you can say, "No. We don't need anything on that aisle.  Because we don't need any beard (beer), honey."


It's amazing to see how many boxes of diapers will tumble to the ground when your kid tries to hide from his older brother behind the stack of pull ups


Accept it.  They're not falling for the, "Oh, no!  Here comes the Target policemen" trick anymore.


There really are no words for the embarrassment you experience when, as you struggle to remove your three year old who is way too big too sit in the front of the cart but insisted that he was too tired to walk from the cart, he YELLS, "Maaaa-Maaaa!  You just really smushed my ding dong!


As you wait to make a return at the customer service desk, panic when you turn around to find you oldest typing his little heart out at the  job application computer.


When I was finally done with my return, I gave my boys the toughest stink eye they'd ever seen.  And it stirred up their fear.  Ridiculous amounts of fear.   And then, my terrified oldest son, panicked when he saw me reach in my pocketbook for my keys.
And he said, "What are you getting , Mama?"
"Getting?  Getting where?"
"In your pocketbook?  Are you getting your pocketknife out Mama?"
"My pocketknife?" I should stop here and emphatically say, I DON"T OWN A POCKETKNIFE.
"Yeah, Mama.  Are you getting your pocketknife out to cut us 'cause we've been so bad?"
Did I mention there was a nice line in customer service at the time?  And that my oldest can talk really, really loud.  Especially when discussing guns, cowboys or knives.
There are no words.
My child asked if I was going to cut him with my pocketknife. 
You know, the switchblade I keep next to the sippy cups and wipes in my pocketbook.
Oh, the embarrassment.
I've never felt like a bigger redneck.
And maybe I need to tone down my stink eye. 
Since it is so fierce it evokes fear of deadly weapons and all.
Or on second thought, maybe I won't.