A target story

Driving around running errands with 2 ancy pants under the age of 3 is about as fun as getting molested by the TSA. At least they use gloves. I spent the better half of my morning retracing about 3700 steps in Target after I realized Stinker had been dropping my bribe for silence; a 1lb bag worth of dried fruit, {VERY expensive organic high-cost-of-shipping dried fruit} all around Target Hansel and Gretel style. How could I not have noticed you ask? I was consumed between excusing myself after slamming into people’s carts left and right and explaining to Weeman why spitting all over mommy in effort to make the “SP” sound was unnecessary. Ewh was that a chunk of wet pretzel!? The kid is cute, so we had this conversation about 20 times before I realized the travesty of labor that lay ahead of me. I could have totally left the store, but then I would have been that mom. We get in the car an hour an a half later and I announce what fun that was. And we still had 3 stops to make.
Stink says, “Mommay! Uhhhhmmm. Why don’t we just buy costco?”
My sentiments exactly.
And you better believe the fruit returned to the bag with all its’ dustball glory.

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