What Happens at Target Stays at Target

                I think it’s time we all band together and start demanding that what happens at Target stays at Target.  Yes, I know there are some things that can’t stay at Target—like the insane amounts of stuff we buy, the plastic bags we tote it all home in because we always forget to bring the reusable totes into the store from the trunk of our vans, and of course the bills for all this stuff.  But the experience?  That should stay at Target—never to be spoken of again.

                Why, you ask?  Well, let me begin the explanation by comparing Target to Las Vegas.  For us moms of small kids, the similarities between Target and Vegas are astounding.  You’ll see us on the first day of school, strolling slowly through the aisles, sipping our still-hot Starbucks, casually browsing the shoes or testing fall nail colors and grinning like we just won the lottery.  Seriously—have you ever seen the expression of pure joy on someone’s face as they win a huge jackpot in Vegas?  No?  Well, let me tell ya, it’s the same expression you’ll see on the face of any mom with small children when she is shopping alone at Super Target.

                However, when we take our kids with us, the scene resembles something straight out of The Hangover.  We look (and feel) confused, agitated, and distracted.  Our hair and clothes look as though we slept on the roof of a hotel.  We are likely wearing mismatched socks, and if you listen closely, you’ll probably hear us call our kids by each other’s names at least once. 

                My point is, like Vegas, the Target shopping experience can either be really great, or really bad, but whereas the Vegas trip’s success hinges on gambling wins, the Target trip’s success is entirely dependent on whether we’re shopping without our kids (win!) or with them.

Why am I so insistent that it all stays at Target?  Let me describe for you some of my recent personal experiences there.

                Early in my pregnancy with Daughter #3, I awoke one morning to find that I did not feel like vomiting.  Hallelujah!  Certain the nausea wouldn’t be absent for long and desperately in need of basic household goods, I quickly (i.e. 90 minutes later, which you know is ridiculously fast if you’ve ever tried getting two small children ready to go anywhere) piled my daughters, then 2 and 4, into the minivan.  I was prepared for this trip—sippy cups for both girls, backup outfit for the youngest, fruit snacks as a bribe and snack traps filled with those surprisingly good baby wheat puffs.

                I’ll spare you the details of this shopping spree and fast forward to the point where we had only three small items left on the list and we were in the far back corner of the store.  As you know if you’ve ever taken small kids to Target, this is the exact point when one child will have to go to the bathroom, which is exactly what happened with us.  I politely asked Sophia if she could hold it for a few minutes because we were ALMOST done and she informed me that no, she had been holding it.  Then, in a much louder voice, she announced that if I didn’t take her to the bathroom right away, there would be a “poop explosion” all over our cart (yep, her words). 

                I sprinted to the front entrance of the store as fast as possible while pushing a cart with one wonky wheel and a toddler who has learned to unfasten her safety restraint if you don’t keep your hand wrapped firmly around it.  Unable to take our full cart into the bathroom, I parked it by a checkout lane, lifted the four year old out of the cart and placed her on the ground, unfastened and removed the toddler from the cart, then unburied my purse and diaper bag from the cart, grabbed the four year old’s hand, and dragged her into the bathroom, silently praying the explosion hadn’t yet occurred.

                “Emergency,” I mumbled to the lady slowly heading to a stall as I brushed past her, ushering Sophia into the closest stall.  Still holding Samantha, I tugged Sophia’s pants down and then reached for toilet paper to lay on the seat as a barrier.  There was none.  I peeked under the stall to see if anyone was next to us who could hand us a spare roll, but the surrounding stalls were empty.  I unlocked the door, pulled Sophia’s pants back up, and dragged the whole crew to the next stall.

                As I locked the door, Sophia informed me she no longer had to go.  A rookie mom might have accepted this, but I knew better.  “That’s okay,” I said.  “But you’re going to sit on this potty until something comes out of your butt.”

                I ignored the snickering from a few stalls down, covered the toilet seat with paper, then pulled Sophia’s pants down.  I turned to hang my purse and diaper bag on the back of the door, but of course the hook had broken off.  So I awkwardly lifted Sophia onto the potty, still holding both of my bags and the squirmy toddler. 

                “Privacy!”  She shrieked.

                Samantha and I turned to face the door.  Sophia began singing “I see the light” from Tangled.  By this point, Samantha was flailing wildly, wanting out of my arms, so I offered her some puffs from her snack trap to keep her occupied.  An eternity later, I heard some noises which indicated Sophia was done. 

                I turned and handed Sophia some toilet paper.  She used it then requested more.  I handed her more, and she abruptly hopped off the toilet, spun around, and stuck her butt in my face so I can “check” if she had been thorough.  Of course, she hadn’t, so I set Samantha down and finished wiping Sophia.  A nanosecond later, I turned, just in time to see Samantha bend down and pick a Cheerio off the ground.  The next few moments passed in slow motion, as I yanked up Sophia’s pants with one hand while desperately trying to knock the dirty floor Cheerio out of Samantha’s hand before it reached her mouth, but of course I was too late.    

                I cringed, cursed silently, then tried to convince myself that maybe, just maybe the floor had been cleaned right before we walked into the bathroom.  And that if not, maybe she would only get those good germs that allegedly help build a child’s immune system. 

                “What’s wrong Mommy?”  Sophia asked in her sweetest voice possible. 

                “Samantha dropped some of her Cheerios on the ground and then ate one,” I explained, gesturing to the Cheerios remaining on the floor.

                Sophia’s face wrinkled instantly into that familiar angry expression.  “Why did she get Cheerios?  You only gave me puffs!”

                As the realization hit me that my child had eaten someone else’s food off the floor of a public restroom, my morning sickness returned.  I lunged at the toilet but since I still hadn’t flushed since Sophia went, I hesitated and ended up missing.  I mean, some of it hit the toilet, but some of it landed in my hair and on my shirt.  I wiped things up as best as I can with two now-crying children, a diaper bag, purse, and hands in desperate need of washing, flushed the toilet, then headed to the sinks.

                Five minutes later, we were as clean as we were going to get, so we left the bathroom and headed straight for our full shopping cart, determined to pay and get home as fast as possible.  Except the cart was gone.  Vanished into thin air.  We searched for a few minutes, unsuccessfully, and then gave up.  Target-1, Mallov family-0.

                This was likely my most traumatic Target experience, but sadly not the only scary one.  Other incidents involved spit up, diaper blow outs, children nearly falling out of the cart, my pregnant belly knocking over an entire rack of shirts as I tried to squeeze between rows, and a VERY pregnant and hormonal me having a full meltdown at Customer Service over a coupon.  There is always something dropped from my cart (usually a necessary item of clothing, like a shoe, or a critical possession like a pacifier) on trips with the kids, and often stuff gets swiped off the shelves by children in the cart and I don’t discover the stowaways until we reach the check out. 

                So what about you?  What are your worst shopping mishaps?

Continuation- 101 Ways to Make Mischief

Okay...here are the rest of the fantastic tips from my guest blogger, baby Katherine.  If you missed out on the first 51, you can find them on the main board of the blog.

52.   When riding in your rear-facing car seat, repeatedly insert your fist into your mouth and gag audibly as though you are vomiting.

53.   Climb onto the couch and dangle precariously over the back, threatening to lose your balance and fall head first.

54.   Whenever Mommy lays on the floor to stretch or do sit-ups, sit on her face.

55.   Whenever anyone sits on the floor, tackle them.

56.   Learn to spit and do it whenever Mommy’s hands are full.

57.   Suddenly crank the stereo volume as high as it goes, then cry from the noise.

58.   Play hide and seek with your favorite stuffed doggy.  Refuse to nap, sleep, or cooperate in any way until Mommy finds it.

59.   Remove clothing from your dresser drawers.  Place it in different drawers, ideally in different rooms.

60.   Play peek-a-boo with Mommy when she attempts to give you a Time Out.

61.   Stand on your tippy toes to reach items on the counter.  Pull down whatever you can reach.

62.   Grab a large picture book and stand on your tippy toes at the counter—use the book to swipe items you can’t reach normally onto the floor.

63.   Feign interest in craft time, then color on the walls when Mommy turns around.

64.   Beg to wash your hands, then as soon as Mommy turns on the faucet, throw the hand towel into the sink.

65.   Start to wean, then randomly collapse at Mommy’s feet crying “nurse, nurse!”

66.   Pet the dog nicely for several minutes before suddenly tugging sharply on her fur.

67.   Whenever Mommy seems to be enjoying her food, beg for a bite.  Insist on the whole item, rather than a bite, then lick the item and/or drop it on the floor.

68.   Pull the wipes out of the package, one at a time.  Disperse them freely throughout the room.

69.   Cry whenever Mommy drinks from a coffee mug.

70.   Learn to giggle on command and do it whenever Mommy looks angry.

71.   Locate the magnet Mommy uses to open the childproofed cabinets.  Hide it.

72.   Change the channel whenever your sister is watching cartoons.

73.   Eject the DVD whenever your sister is watching Frozen.

74.   Learn to summon Siri on Mommy’s iPhone.  Ask her question after question in baby gibberish until the battery dies.

75.   Find out when Mommy plans to wake up in the morning.  Cry twenty minutes before that time, every day.

76.   Steal Mommy’s wallet at the grocery store.  Drop one credit card in each aisle.

77.   Eat corn on the cob often.  Do not chew thoroughly.  Laugh uproariously at Mommy’s expression during the next diaper change.

78.   Wedge yourself in between the couch and side table, forging onward until you can’t squeeze another inch and then scream until Mommy scoots the side table over to free you.  Repeat.

79.   Insist on taking a pacifier whenever you’re in public.  Drop it in the most disgusting place you find.

80.   Dance with abandon whenever you hear music.

81.   Drop items off the landing above the stairway.

82.   Try on Mommy’s bras when company comes over.

83.   Stick your hand down Mommy’s shirt whenever she talks with other adults, preferably males.

84.   Run over Mommy’s feet with your ride-on car.

85.   Insist on only eating foods like oatmeal, rice krispies, or grape nuts for breakfast.  Obviously, you should throw the bowl containing these items after four bites.

86.   Turn on all the faucets that you can reach so that just a trickle of water comes out. 

87.   Insist on kneeling at the top of the stairs with your back to the stairs to read.  If Mommy attempts to reposition you, throw the book at her head and writhe around screaming until she walks away, then return to your cozy reading spot atop the stairs.

88.   Walk with a limp for several days in a row.  When Mommy takes you to the pediatrician, perform like an Olympic marathoner.  Then resume the limp the next day.

89.   Swing your foam baseball bat at Daddy’s legs.  Bonus points if you hit the knees or groin.

90.   Try on Mommy’s shoes and waltz around proudly in them whenever she needs a smile.

91.   Stand independently at a young age.  This will cause Mommy to panic and childproof prematurely.

92.   Delay walking as long as possible.  You want Mommy to carry you everywhere, subject to the conditions of Tip 93.

93.   If you are out and about and notice Mommy checking her watch often, insist on walking and holding her hand rather than being held.

94.   Whenever you walk, walk slowly.  Touch all bugs, weeds, and cigarette butts you see. 

95.   Store your shoes in the pantry.  Or the fridge.  Or the bathroom cabinet.  The key is to keep it fresh—always vary the location.

96.   Sit on the baby potty happily while Mommy reads you fourteen books.  Then stand up and pee on the Dry-Clean-Only rug nearby.

97.   When in public, point to an old scab on your chin from where you scratched yourself, say “ouch” loudly and point accusingly at Mommy.

98.   Insist on helping Mommy whenever she is typing.

99.   Remove the plastic electrical outlet covers.  Hide them until Mommy starts accusing your siblings of doing this, then grab one and shove it down your throat.  When she starts replacing them in the wall, quickly find the one remaining uncovered outlet and pretend to lick it.

100.                        Have a dimple.  You know when to use it to your advantage.

101.                        Remember every swear word Mommy ever says.  Wait until you are at church or with grandma to repeat them.

 

Stay tuned for next week's blogs--topics include What Happens at Target Stays at Target and The S*** No One Admits They're Thankful For.

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The F Word

                Recently (okay, yesterday), I had one of those days best characterized by the F word.  You know the one- Failure.  I don’t mean failure in the sense of a bad letter grade on an exam- and generally that’s never been an issue for me (with the exception of my 8^th Grade Advanced Social Studies Class, and frankly I’m still waiting for the day where I have a real-life need to be able to label the states AND their capitals on a completely blank map).  No, I mean it was one of those days where it became abundantly clear that if someone were to grade me on the job I was doing in each of the many, many roles I perform these days, the results would likely be on par with that stupid geography test.

                I think we all have those days where we feel like a complete failure, so I don’t want to bore you with the precise details of my personal shortcomings, but hear me out for a moment.  On any given day, I am, among many other things: a mother, a wife, a daughter, a friend, a cook, a lawyer, and a writer.  Over the last week, I learned that my oldest daughter has a potentially serious health issue which I should’ve caught earlier (failure as a mom); I totally spaced Rosh Hashanah, a hugely important holiday for my Jewish husband (failure as wife); my grandma ended up in a hospital and I wasn’t able to offer much comfort or any assistance to my mom because I was so caught up in my own stuff (failure as a daughter); a good friend came to me with a serious problem and I again, wasn’t able to offer much comfort or help because of my own issues (failure as a friend); I fed my family PB&N (that’s peanut butter and nutella, for you folks whose kids actually eat jelly) for lunch AND dinner (failure as a cook); I had my first ever less-than-satisfied client (failure as a lawyer), and instead of working on final edits for a novel set to go out to editors soon, I spent my time writing one that isn’t needed any time soon (failure as a writer).  I assure you that my house was also messy, my dog didn’t get walked, and I ate an obscene amount of sugar during this time too, so please don’t think my failures were limited to those isolated (but HUGE) screw ups.

                It didn’t help that I spent all day yesterday in continuing education seminars listening to a variety of accomplished lawyers, economists, and activists discuss issues of environmental injustice and toxic torts law.  Not only is that a really depressing subject with no practical solution, but it made me feel like even more of a failure.  It really offers perspective to know that 600,000 people in Haiti were sickened from cholera due to an oversight by the UN in 2010, millions of people are still suffering from the effects of the notorious Agent Orange in Vietnam, and locally, racial minorities are still significantly more likely to live in areas with horrific air quality than Caucasians.  There are attorneys out there fighting to wrong these injustices—waking up every day to work their asses off at low paying jobs with virtually no hope of ever reaching a satisfying outcome because, as I said, there are no clear solutions to these issues.  Meanwhile, what do I do with the law degree I earned—graduating at the top of my class?  Oh right….I blog, write romance novels, and occasionally draft legal briefs for other attorneys. 

                I keep reading in various sources how we all feel like failures more often these days and the overwhelming response is to blame social media.  That’s not what I’m going to do.  I don’t need a picture of a Pinterest-perfect house to tell me mine is messy.  I’m well aware that hot dogs and fruit snacks are a shoddy school lunch even before I see Facebook posts from other moms showing mini quiches and a mélange of fresh berries in their kid’s bento box (you know who you are S.R.).  I don’t feel like a failure because I have instant access to images of the most perfect moment’s of the lives of others; no, I feel like a failure because, well, sometimes I am.  And that’s okay.

                When I’m feeling overwhelmed, it calms me to see the newborn photos you upload to Instagram.  When I’m sad, I want to read the hilarious and adorable thing your preschooler did that you’ve posted on Facebook.  And when I’m feeling like a screw up, I want to see the kickass Frozen palace you crafted from fondant for your daughter’s fifth birthday. 

I’ve come to peace with the fact that I’m not the best at everything (or quite likely, anything), but I’m pretty decent at a lot of stuff.  Part of the benefit of having friends (be it real friends or social media “friends”) is that I can live vicariously through your successes.  I’ve accepted that more likely than not, none of my close friends will ever be president, cure cancer, discover a new planet, or save the environment.  But I damn well expect to see some more practical achievements by you guys. 

 

So, keep on posting photos of that tile backsplash you did all by yourself.  Tell me about your diet successes.  Upload as many pics of your last vacation as you want.  Show me a full month’s worth of organic, preservative and dye-free school lunches.  Brag about your promotion at work.  Let me see every zoo-themed cupcake you cranked out for the bake sale last week. 

I know that none of you have Pinterest-perfect lives all the time, but I want to see the moments where you do have it all together…because your successes cheer me up and remind me of my own days where I’ve done anything but fail.

 

Here's to a better tomorrow...

101 Ways to Make Mischief

Today I have a guest writer.  Her name is Katherine. I know, I know.  I’m less than a week into this new blogging effort and already I’m delegating, but bare with me.  Katherine would like to share some of her tricks.

1.        First, these tips work best if you are young- a year and a half old is perfect.

2.       These tips also work best if you are small for your age, under 20 pounds makes many of these feats slightly more impressive to the big people.

3.       When Mommy starts vacuuming, scream like you’re being eaten by a lion.  She will pick you up.

4.       Once Mommy resumes vacuuming, this time while holding you, play peek-a-boo by pulling her hair completely over her eyes.

5.       When this game gets boring, suddenly lean back as far as you can.  Mommy will shriek and set you down before she drops you.  Then, when she starts vacuuming again without picking you up, return to Tip 4.  Repeat this sequence until she abandons the vacuuming mission.

6.       Learn how to open doors.  Do this in secret.  Never let a grown up see you open a door.

7.       Learn how to climb out of—and back into—your crib.  Do this in secret too.  Never let a grown up see you perform either of these tasks.

8.       Scream and point accusingly at other children during playgroup whenever they have a toy you want.  This is easier than stealing their toy because their mommy will assume they took the toy from you and will hand it to you.

9.       Gnaw on table legs or any furniture that looks fancy.

10.   Climb onto tables whenever you have the chance.  But only if someone is looking.  Do not waste this effort on an empty room.

11.   When Mommy looks more frustrated than normal, hug her tightly and smile so she can see all your baby teeth. 

12.   When Mommy is on the phone, quietly open the basement door.  Inch down the stars carefully on your stomach.  Once you reach the bottom, stretch out face-down on the floor and start screaming frantically.

13.   Try to stand whenever Mommy attempts to put you in your car seat.

14.   If Mommy successfully gets you seated in your car seat, arch your back, flail your arms and legs, and scream like you’re being kidnapped before she can buckle you.

15.   Whenever you are in your car seat, remove your shoes and socks.  Throw your socks, then put your shoes back, but on the wrong feet.

16.   Every couple of weeks, put your shoes back on the right feet.  Mommy will be so accustomed to switching them that she will do this—then putting them on the wrong feet herself.

17.   Wedge your pacifiers between the mattress and bars of your crib.  Cry when they are all hidden.

18.   Take all of your Mommy’s shoes from her closet and put them in your crib.  Do this daily, whenever Mommy is distracted for a moment.

19.   Sample, then spill, any drink you can reach.  If you can’t reach, climb something.

20.   Learn the words to “Let it Go.”  When Mommy appears to be reconsidering her anti-spanking stance, belt out a few lines in your sweetest voice.

21.   Wait until the house is quiet and climb out of your crib.  Gather all the diapers from your room and toss them into your crib one at a time.  Climb back into your crib and fall asleep, smiling with anticipation at how mad Mommy will be at your sisters when she blames them for this in the morning.

22.   Open the pantry door.  Climb the shelves until you reach the open box of Brown Rice.  Do NOT get distracted by the fruit snacks.  These are a decoy!  Take the box and hold it upside down.  Once you notice rice falling out, start to run without dropping the box.  By the time Mommy catches you, there will be a nice trail.

23.   Break your food into small bits at dinner.  Throw some to the dog. 

24.   Insist on feeding yourself yogurt.  Since you are so small for your age, Mommy will do almost anything to get you to eat.  Smear half of the yogurt in your hair.  Finger paint with the rest.

25.   Never poop all at once.  Exercise the utmost self control so that you only poop enough to get your diaper changed.  Once the clean diaper is on, poop some more.

26.   Speaking of poop, try doing it in the bath every once in a while, ideally when bathing with your sisters.

27.   On occasion, help Mommy out by changing your own diaper.  Remove the dirty one, but don’t waste tons of wipes.  Scoot along the carpet to clean yourself instead.  Bring Mommy the clean diaper.  Cry sorrowfully when she doesn’t act appreciative.

28.   When you wear a dress, remove your diaper but don’t tell anyone.  Then when you are out in public, pee.  Giggle with excitement at Mommy’s surprise when she gets all wet.

29.   Splash uncontrollably in the tub.  If any soap gets near you, splash harder.

30.   Blow a kiss to Mommy when she shrieks with frustration.

31.   Do something really cute until Mommy gets her camera.  Then go cross-eyed or cry.

32.   Whenever you see paper with lots of words written on it, lick the paper until it smears into a beautiful picture.

33.   Insist on being held whenever Mommy is cooking. 

34.   Once she picks you up, snatch various utensils from her hands.

35.   Find a pen or marker.  Use it to color on furniture. 

36.   Put everything in your mouth.  The tinier the better.

37.   Better yet, wait till Mommy is watching and pretend to put small objects in your mouth.  Secretly hide the objects in your sleeves instead.

38.   Drop things in the toilet.  Shiny electronic things that beep are good, but so is jewelry.

39.   If Mommy asks where something is, run to the toilet and look in, even if you know the missing item is really in her purse.  Bonus points if you do the palms-up “who knows” gesture.

40.   Look at Mommy and say “pretty” when she is about to yell.

41.   Make a concentrated effort to learn to skip.  When Mommy says it’s time to leave the park, skip.  This will buy you an extra ten minutes of playtime.

42.   You know those vents in the floor that air comes out of?  Use them like drains.  Pour liquids in them.  Or sand, beads, or other small objects.

43.   Stand cooperatively next to Mommy when you play outside.  Then once she turns her back, run!

44.   At playgrounds, climb up the steps and then immediately go down the baby slide several times.  Once Mommy sits down on the bench instead of hovering over you, race towards the top of the fireman pole on the climber and pretend you’re going to jump.

45.   Tug hard on any jewelry Mommy wears.  It should snap off into your hands.

46.   Never hold still for a diaper change.  But vary your movements so Mommy never knows what to expect next.

47.   When Mommy is on the phone, scream randomly like you’re in pain.

48.   When you are in public, hang on Mommy’s leg until her pants start to fall down.

49.   Whenever you’re in the stroller, remove one shoe and, being as stealthy as possible, drop it when Mommy isn’t looking.  Wait five minutes before getting her attention, pointing to your bare foot, and saying “shoe.”

50.   Wait till Mommy pauses to catch her breath in between screaming and say “I wuv you.”

51.   Never finish anything you start.  This applies to food, puzzles, crafts, and blog posts.

 

Stay tuned for Tips 52-101

Chatting With a Four Year Old

                Recently, my husband and I were in the market for patio materials.  Knowing it would be a lengthy shopping venture and that my only role was to approve the paver selection, we drove separately.  Miraculously, I ended up with only one child—the elusive middle child—in the car I was driving.

                As I cruised off towards Menards, I cranked up the radio, assuming I was embarking on a peaceful, pleasant drive where I didn’t have to listen to overly detailed stories of first grade or repeatedly reach blindly into the backseat to retrieve tossed pacifiers for a fussy baby.  But before we were out of our neighborhood, my sweet Samantha began talking.  Here’s the gist of the conversation:

                “Hey mommy?”

                “Yes?”

                “Can you turn the radio down?  I want to sing Frozen for you.”

                Sigh.  “Sure.”

                “Snow blows cold on the mountainside, not a footprint… Hey mommy?”

                “Yes?”

                “Are you listening?”

                “Yes.”

                “Do you like Frozen?”

                “It’s got some good parts.” (Sidebar- do NOT ever tell your daughters you think Tangled has a better soundtrack than Frozen.  This comment will launch them into a tirade longer than both movies combined and will make you wish you had Rapunzel-length hair that you could strangle yourself with.)

                “Yeah.  It’s pretty good.  I like the song “Roar” too.  You know, because it’s what a tiger does.  Or a lion.  Is it a lion?  Hey, have I singed that song for you about the fieldtrip?  You know, where the little kid climbs into the lions cage and he roars?  It’s definitely about a lion.  Can Katherine sing ‘Call Me Maybe’?”

                “I don’t know.  Maybe you should teach her.”

                “Is that Bieber?” (she’s clearly realized I never turned the radio off—just switched it to the front speakers only).  “I used to like Bieber.  Do you like Bieber?  Hey what about Ryan?  I don’t know if Ryan is still my boyfriend.  Probably I will still marry him.  Well, him or maybe that Alex.  But only if he stops biting me when I take his toy.  That is not nice.  Ryan is always nice.  Except I never see him anymore because his class is a different class from mine.  He’s not in the ladybug class.  He’s a sailor.  Hey, mommy?”

                Sigh.  “Yep?”

                “Are pirates real?”

                I hesitate.  “Yes.”

                “Of course they are.  Would you vote for a pirate?  If he wanted to be mayor?  If he was a nice pirate?”  She barely paused.  “No!  Don’t.  It’s a trick.  When a pirate pretends to be nice, that’s how you know he’s not nice.  Except Izzy, she’s a nice pirate.  Not our neighbor Izzy, the one on Jake and the Neverland Pirates.  Izzy is nice too though.  Why isn’t our basement finished?  Izzy’s is finished and it is a playroom.”

                “We have a playroom.”

                “But we should have one in the basement too.  We could put a flag in it.  Did you know I can say the Pledge of Allegiance?  I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America.  And to the republic where witches stand, one nation, under god…  Mom?”

                “Yeah.”

                “Sometimes I think you don’t listen to me.”

                “Hmm.”

                “Are mermaids real?”

                “What do you think?”

                “I’ve never seen one.”

                “Just because you haven’t seen something doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.”

                “Yeah, I guess that’s so, because I haven’t seen any unicorns and they are real.  I’m opposed to draw one for school tomorrow.”

                “Supposed,” I correct.

                “What do you suppose?”

                “Nevermind.”

                “Yeah, because mommy, those gummy vitamins from Jake and the pirate show, they aren’t even nice, and they are supposed to taste good so you don’t know you’re eating fish flavors and stuff.  Are we almost there?  I have to go potty.  And not to pee.”

                “I’m driving as fast as I can.”  Trust me.

                “Do you have my underpants?”

                “Why would I have your underpants?  Aren’t you wearing them?”

                “Nope.  Doesn’t look like it.  Huh.  Weird.  Maybe Katherine took them.”

                Yep, folks, that was four minutes of my life.  Multiply this by 300 and you can imagine my day.