Wednesday, September 3, 2008
Sometimes when I am out with my boys, I wonder do we scare non-parents and/or soon-to-be parents? Like when Lochlan is screeching at levels that heavy metal listeners would complain about and Keegan is ... well...a little boy.
For example, this is a normal day shopping at my local grocery store. Keegan sits in the toddler seat. Lochlan sits in the infant seat. We get a free cookie from the bakery. (Thank you, Publix!) This distracts Keegan until aisle three. Then he asks for a new cookie.
"Cookie?" he asks inquiringly.
I spend aisle three telling him that he only gets one cookie per supermarket visit, but mommy will make cookies tonight.
Aisle 4, he is out of the cart and walking next to me. Lochlan is eating my coupons.
Aisle 5, Keegan is putting boxes of brownies in my cart. I remove them. Lochlan is eating my checkbook.
Aisle 6, Keegan puts 5 bottles of ketchup in the cart. I remove them. I eye Lochlan suspiciously as my keys are now missing.
Aisle 7, speaking of missing... where is Keegan? Head down Aisle 8. There he is, turning the corner to go back Aisle 7.
"Don't you move, Keegan," I say.
A mom with two kids and an adorable pregnant belly laughs and says, "Like THAT will happen." It sounds snottier than it was. It was more like she got a kick out of it not being her kids.
We move back down Aisle 8, him doing a toddler run. I race him with the huge cart, catch him, stick him in his seat as he arches his back and says, "No, Mommy, no!" Another woman, shopping sans kids, laughs.
Aisle 9 to infinity (how many aisles ARE IN Publix?) he complains and whines, "Mommy Mommy Mommy..." I see the ready-bake cookies, grab a chilled roll of cookie dough and hand it to Keegan. He bops Lochlan with it.
We get to the check out. I take 1/2 digested coupons out of Lochlan's mouth. I remove the soggy remains of my checkbook and decide to use my debit card instead.
Keegan wants to push the green button as I pay. I swipe my debit card. He pushes the green button. Everyone is happy. I put my debit card away. The cashier says,"Uh, he hit cancel... you have to swipe again."
And the cashier says, "Terrible Twos, eh?"
I say, "It's not terrible. Just keeps me busy."
It's not THAT scary, is it? Or am I just used to this by now? Like by caring for them from infanthood, it is such a gradual process of them becoming scary little monsters that I am somehow immune. Like Dr. Frankenstein, I think my creations are beautiful and wonderful. They just cause havoc and mayhem from time to time. Mwa-ha-ha.