So before going to Costco with 6 & 3 yr. old I try to “pop” into 3 other stores. First store was truly popping in, of the Redbox sort, the second 2 stores I lost my resolve to remain single-minded and proceeded to browse.
By the time we’re driving to Costco 6 yr. old is complaining how I didn’t stick to my list (busted! how did he know that!?) and 3 yr. old is crying to go home. But I have to go to Costco because that’s really why we went out in the first place isn’t it.
Of course they’re whinnying for samples once we get there and I don’t have all day to wait for them, I wanna keep crazy train movin’, but Wesley is going downhill fast so I try yet again to wait.
Sample person is taking her sweet time ever. so. slowly. sanitizing all 2 or 3 feet of surface space as if butchering of raw meat was going on, but no, it was yogurt in little containers threatening the area with healthy bacteria. While spraying and wiping and wiping some more she remarks about Wesley (who at this point is spazzing out a bit) “he’s got a bad temper doesn’t he?”. I informed her he’s hyperglycemic (he actually has ‘reactive hyperglycemia’) and decide I didn’t need to stick around for more small talk. No yogurt for us. boo hoo. choo choo. chug a chug.
The Sun Chips variety box almost did the trick, other than Preston picking the flavor Wesley wants and him refusing to eat his bag because he doesn’t want to be matching with him but doesn’t want another flavor so I try to ‘quietly yell’ that he had better eat those chips (the ones we hadn’t paid for just yet). Good times.
We ended the outing with some highly nutritious food right there and as I was half seated, mid-air to be exact, Preston’s soda with a lid somehow spills. A sticky splash on my sandal-clad-toesies. Didn’t even faze me. I’ve somewhat evolved in my crazy train conductor skills.
On an even happier note this thoughtful couple–albeit unlucky people since they were seated next to us–held their empty pizza box so I could gracefully push my humongous dripping wet napkin wad into their box. Hallelujah! Then Preston wanted a refill.
Moral of the story:
- Don’t assume a kid’s got a bad temper just ’cause he’s spazzing out
- It’s save to assume mama’s the one with a temper ; )
- Nice people stand out in this day and age, they really do
–That’s the true moral of this story–