I took Ansley to Walmart yesterday. It’s nothing new for us, we shop there every week. BUT, this time, I decided to shake things up and I failed miserably.
Ansley is great at walking and holding my hand, (I thought to myself). Plus, we only need chicken, one of those big packs of raw chicken that I can use to make like 10 meals. It only takes one hand to carry chicken and I’ll have the whole other hand free to guide my sweet toddler to the convenient self checkout. Never mind that God sent a nice gentleman in a Walmart badge to offer me a cart for me and my child. No, sir, we shall walk.
Oh wait, we are out of fruit, I’ll just grab a bag of pears. I can carry a bag of pears, 12 pounds of chicken and sweetly hold the hand of my perfect child. *Crap, she’s eating the fancy expensive pears.* Nevermind, I will steer her away with my amazing parenting skills and we will checkout...popsicles.
I need popsicles. Ok, I can stack the box of popsicles on top of the chicken and still hold on the bag of pears and lovingly wrangle the child that is evolving from my sweet toddler to one of those screaming ones you see on tv. I got this.
We have like 10 steps to make it to the checkout. Five steps down and the pear bag starts to break. Six steps down and the child starts to break loose. She heads for the tiny bags of chips and begins to hug them like friends and gathers more and more friends into her arms. Unable to corral the child and fix the pear bag, I set down the 20 pounds of chicken and popsicles and gently unglue Ansley’s new friends from her arms.
She is crying, then the bag breaks, and the pears fall and down went baby with the pears and all. She dove for the first one and begin eating like she hadn’t had a meal in weeks. I’m hunting down the rest and now there are people in a line behind me joining the search for pears. Ansley makes a bee-line for the ladies swimsuit section and I’m swimming in my fear and masked laughter.
People are carrying my items and I’m finally carrying my screaming child and together me and the people of Walmart walk to a self checkout kiosk. They left their parting gifts (my fallen pears) as well as looks of pity and enhanced self esteem. I start to pry the partially eaten pear from my er...from my husband’s child’s hands, understanding the fireworks that could ensue. I need to weigh the pear to pay for the pear, but now part of the pear is inside the toddler.
Do I pick up the whole toddler and sit her on the scale, do some backwards math and determine the amount of pear inside that I must pay for? No, I stick the partial pear on the scale with the rest of the runaways and become keenly aware that someday Walmart will release a photo of me chasing my toddler in the swimsuit section and stealing partial bites of pear.