motherhood

Clean Up in Aisle Crazy

As I gather my boys near me and look at their sweet, unassuming faces, a part of me is in disbelief I am having to spout this same, tired monologue:

“I am only going to say this once and after that, I will not speak of this again.  I will simply observe your behavior at lunch and the grocery store.  If at any point I notice nonsense, when we return home you will lose all electronic and tv privileges for the rest of the day.”

At least there has been an evolution.  Oh, I still get frustrated as all get out when they act crazy at the grocery store, but now I have a solid course of action if things go off the rails.  This planning phase allows me to take a step back from attempting to control their behavior and puts the outcome of the day squarely on their shoulders.

It helps.

They really are gifted at finding things to nitpick about and causing mayhem in general.  Who drives the cart?  Who runs over their brother?  Who can’t find the hawaiian rolls even though their mom explicitly outlines their location?  Who narrowly misses the darling, elderly woman perusing the dairy isle?

Who? Who? Who?

Despite all this, we made it.  At times, dare I say, my boys were helpful.

As we meandered to our car post-shopping, an argument ensued concerning the return of our grocery cart.

“You take it back,” said Full Speed.

“You take it back.  I was in charge of pushing it in the store so you have to take it back,” said T.Puzzle.

“No, no.  It’s the law of cart-a-nomics.  Those that take it must give it back.”

Hey, while you’re at it T.Puzzle, take your brother with you.

Mommy out.

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T.Puzzle looks gleeful here because he is squatting down to make himself look short.  His subtle rebellion against posing for photos.

 

 

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