Your Public Face

I sometimes worry about the public face I wear.

Expecially when shopping with Aaron.

For instance, today I took him to the health club with me. Then we went to WalMart.

As anyone knows, any trip to WalMart has to begin with a visit to Subway. We were eating subs at 10:45am. And getting the subs wasn't an easy task. First, we had to argue over the drink: soda vs. icee. Icees cost more and I am already getting mad at the amount of money I will be spending on a freakin' sub sandwich. Second, we argue over add-ons. Why must every sub sandwich be accompanied by chips and cookies?! I solved the dilemmas by declaring soda the drink of the day and having Aaron get chips with his sub while I got cookies with mine. Both add-ons go to Aaron because all I want is the sub. (By the way, Subway ended up costing $16!)

Shopping at WalMart commences with the first official merchandise request: Can I have a new shirt and pants? No. Can I have cookies? Yes. Can I have pop tarts? No. Can I have some fish? No. Can I have...can I have...can I have.

By the time we check out, I want to rip my hair out. In great big giant handfuls. But I refrain.

Of course, the trip to WalMart was a bust (even though it cost $50!) because I went for a squirt bottle (how else can I squirt the dogs when they bark?!) and they didn't have any. Aaron jokingly suggested getting a bottle of Windex and emptying that. I should have taken his advice!

We head to the dollar store.

Inside the doors, the Can I Have's begin. Endlessly. Every aisle produces another thing Aaron has to have. Bow and arrow. Yoyo. Cookie. Fruit punch. His own squirt bottle.

Now, we have been together nearly one hour. And 54 minutes of that time has been spent arguing over things Aaron must have.

By the time I reach the last aisle of the store, I am ready to scream. I actually do screech a little when he asks for something. Then I notice the woman giving me The Look.

I know she thinks I am the worse mother in the world. After all, how could someone be so short-tempered with Aaron the adorable boy? What kind of mother would deny him anything?

I want to grab her by the lapels and explain, tears falling freely: "I've been to lunch and two stores with him. I cannot take anymore. Please, help me. Put me out of my misery..."

Instead, I put on my sunny mother persona and manage to buy the four items in my basket. The clerk wasn't very friendly. She took my money without even saying the total. Now her, I wanted to grab by the neck and snarl directly into her face, "I'm the customer! I'm shopping with a child! Please, show me some courtesy! Just a little! I...just...need...a...little..."