Saturday, October 24, 2009


Due to poor planning on my part, this past Thursday I found myself at Walgreens, at noon (instead of at home, where I really needed to be, feeding and napping my human), in search of a birthday card to go in a gift that had needed to be mailed two days earlier. Had I not called to apologize for my lateness and said that I was mailing the gift that day, I could have continued procrastinating, but no. I opened my pie hole and shoved in my foot, and thus, found myself shopping at an inopportune moment. Nonetheless, I knew I was working on borrowed time and I was trying to hurry. I tossed Lady Bean in a cart, grabbed my purchases, including the card, and paid. And at this point all was well, with only minimal fussing from LB. I went to the cart return area, by the door, and prepared to head to the parking lot when I made a stupid, STUPID, mistake. I (did I mentioned STUPIDLY?) asked LB if she wanted me to carry her or if she wanted to walk. She opted to walk. Our rule is simple, you walk, you hold my hand. She knows this. She, however, was hungry and tired and wanted to walk sans Mommy and her handholding self. When told this was not a choice, she threw herself down on the floor and threw a fit of the highest order. There was screaming and tears and kicking and flailing. I stared at her in a kind of defeated and resigned way and in between wails repeated that if she wanted to walk she needed to hold my hand, all the while offering her my hand. She wailed, "NOOOOOOO!" and kicked and flailed some more. Good times. But wait! They get better.

It was at this point where an elderly gentleman in the line to pay raises his voice to tell me that I was an idiot. "She's obviously tired. She is screaming and throwing a tantrum because she needs a nap." Then, to the lady next to him, "That little girl needs a nap." And then back, loudly, to me, "You need to take her home and get her some sleep." After looking at him with my mouth agape, I replied, "Huh. Now I get elder abuse," and then I scooped up my screaming kid, two bags of crap and walked out. The End.

Okay, I didn't say that, but I wished I had. Dude, my kid is having a fucking meltdown. In the middle of a store. Blocking the exit. I know there is a problem. Thanks Captain Obvious. I mean, really? Do you honestly think you are helping the situation? Offering useful information? Meaningful insight? I'm just saying, THIS is why people beat up old people.

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