When my friend Emily and I were about nine years old, just on the cusp of learning to be real smart-asses, we had a fun little game of embarrassing her mom at the grocery store.
We hated having to be dragged along on errands, so when we got bored, we would shuffle and limp very slowly behind her (to make it look like she was neglectfully leaving us behind), and, in the very stupidest, most ridiculously moronic, and most importantly, LOUD voices we could muster, we'd follow her around wailing, "MO-OOOOOM! Wait for meeee!"
It always elicited a delightful response from shoppers. Delightful for US, I mean. Certainly not delightful for Emily's mom.
I KNEW I'd pay for that someday.
When Garrett refused to move out of the grocery store aisle for oncoming cart traffic, I apologized to the customers he was holding up, then pulled him aside for a little reminder of how we act at the store.
Two minutes later, he was at it again, so I pulled him aside, gritted my teeth, and discreetly swatted his bottom (because I hear people will REPORT you for child abuse if they see you giving a child a WELL-DESERVED SWAT).
So when he still refused to cooperate, I pulled out my patented Ear Pull, in which I firmly pinch just above the ear lobe and then steer the misbehaving child right back into behaving.
Unfortunately for me, my own Mother-Embarrassing days as a child chose this particular moment to come back and haunt the hell out of me.
For when I put the Ear Pull into action, Garrett chose NOT to behave, but to SCREAM, at the top of his lungs,
"YOU'RE MAKING MY EAR BLEEEEEEEED!"
So while horrified shoppers gaped at the POSSIBLE CHILD ABUSE happening right in front of their STARING EYES, I firmly grasped his shoulder, leaned down, and whisper-yelled (you do know the "whisper-yell", yes?), "You WILL stay behind me or in front of me, and you will NOT get in the middle of the aisle AGAIN, do you UNDERSTAND me, little MISTER?", and then I tapped his toes with my foot for emphasis.
But as we all know, karma is a real bitch.
"NOW YOU'RE MAKING MY TOES BLEEEEEEEED!"
And then, we got the HELLLLLLL out of the store as quickly as possible, which is really not that quick at all when you're holding the crying baby who won't sit in her carseat, attempting to steer an overfull cart with one hand, and trying desperately not to cry.
The moral of this story is either:
A) Do not make big grocery trips with three children
B) Lock your five year old into his room until he learns to quit acting like a brat
C) Start sneaking a flask of tequila into Walmart.
I'm leaning towards ALL OF THE ABOVE.
