Following a "discussion" with the soon-to-be 13 year old about not being allowed to take his comforter to school, the aforementioned boy left for school in a huff without getting a permission slip for that day's outing signed. (For those of you who wonder why he may have wanted the comforter, let it be said that the flag football team he's on is co-ed and that snow graced our area today.)
"Fine," he snarled. "I'll get my buddy's Mom to sign it for me."
"Good luck!" Simone shouted cheerfully.
A drive to the drugstore ensued to purchase a bottle of shampoo from the one location guaranteed to have it. The hubby likes that one type of shampoo, subsection 4 stylistic b, and will accept no substitutes. Hence special trips. Sigh. So the toddler got hauled in and out of the car but what should have taken a couple of minutes took ten. No interac at the drugstore today.
Okay, we moved on to the grocery store. Today's mission was...
Are you ready?
Italian parsley.
That's because Italian parsley tastes great in tomato salad.
Toddler hauled out of car.
Check.
Toddler carried all the way into store to avoid wet buggies.
Check.
Toddler shoved into buggy seat.
Ouch - three minutes of yelling (from the toddler), some sweating and grunting from Simone, a couple of misfires (two feet in the same hole, boots fell off and were subsequently tossed into the buggy) and everyone was ready to shop for Italian parsley.
Of course, wouldn't you know it, all the shelves of the produce department were full. Except for two: parsley and Italian parsley.
Simone gamefully asked but no go: the parsley got lost on its way to Barrie that morning.
Toddler yanked out of buggy.
Check.
Toddler shoved back into car seat.
Check.
Dog kicked back into back seat. "No, you cannot come out. STAY!"
Next stop (this is not for the faint of heart), the pet shop.
Simone takes the toddler out and allows the dog to exit the vehicle, grabbing the leash at the last moment to prevent an unfortunate accident.
"K'wee!" commands the toddler. ("Carry!" for those of you who missed an earlier instalment of Simone's hellish life.)
Sigh.
Luckily, once inside the pet shop, the toddler beelines for the dog toys and no longer requires Simone's carrying services. The dog, however, doesn't know which way to tug the leash. So many toys! So many smells! So many animals! He solves the dilemma by tugging in various directions, one after the other. Simone short leashes him and drags him toward the dog food. The dog is reluctant: the food is vacuum sealed and doesn't smell.
Simone grabs, of course, the largest bag of dog food available. It weighs more than the dog and the toddler combined. Unable to lift it, she drags it across the floor toward the cash register and is cornered on the way by said toddler. He has found a large yellow rubber sausage dog and tries to bash the dog on the head with it. The dog, amused, tries to bite the toy. Simone drags dog and food and stands in line, admonishing the toddler to drop the toy.
"Nobody will want a previously chewed toy," she says to the boy. Okay, so DOGS would LOVE a previously chewed toy but let's suspend disbelief, shall we?
While waiting in line, Simone hears the checkout clerk mention that interac isn't working. Well, what a surprise!
The toddler, bored by now and without his yellow rubber sausage dog that Simone has cunningly dropped into another container of toys, starts to cry.
"K'wee!"
"Hey, look at the birdies in the cage," says Simone.
No go.
"K'wee!" gets repeated a dozen times, followed by some foot stomping. This is usually a preamble to the toddler throwing himself backward with total disregard for what may or may not be there, in this case a tiled floor.
At this point, the phone rings. It's this morning's soon to be 13 year old. Remember him? He says, "Hey. I'm sorry about the way I acted this morning. Um, could you come over to my school to sign the permission slip?"
What would you have said?
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