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Last Updated: Nov 14, 2008 - 12:49:26 PM |
It starts the minute you are hit in the face with the cold blast of air and greeted by that smiling friendly face. Your adventure of the week is beginning. You must make sure your survival kit is stocked before embarking on this marvelous trek. Food rations, extra hydration, comfortable shoes, offspring, offspring’s transportation, and finally, your checklist. All things point to go – oh wait, don’t forget your husband. He’s the most important part of this survival equation; he pushes the grocery cart. You are ready to begin this shopping expedition; you have arrived and are ready to go, and you are at Wal-Mart.
Before you even get past the flowers and the new movie release section, your child is demanding his snack rations. As soon as he is happily munching on a Nutri-Grain bar, with sippy cup firmly by his side, you begin the first steps into the wild. It is always the most congested by the cosmetics aisle, somewhere you rarely venture anymore, but need to walk through nevertheless. It’s on the way to the first stop of the trip, the fish tanks. Oh, the poor fish tanks; have you ever seen anything more depressing in a fluorescent-lit superstore? The bettas are listlessly floating in their tiny wedding reception cups and the goldfish seem to be hopped up on fish food, zipping to and fro so fast your child’s head looks like something out of The Exorcist. You stay as long as you can, which adds up to be a whopping two to four minutes. You then deal with the cries of outrage from your adorable, never-has-fits-in-public child. As he screams and you blush with humiliation, you are quietly whispering promises of tractors to him. Thank the Lord the Lawn and Garden department is only feet away.
As you browse through fertilizer and rocking chairs, all the while trying to make it to the tractors, you notice other children screaming as well. As any mother would, you take some small satisfaction from this; you are not alone in this world of screaming toddlers, and you are not a bad mother! It does seem to be a contagious problem in Wal-Mart, the screaming child. As soon as you hear the first shrill cry of insult, you immediately push the stroller as fast as you can in the opposite direction, hoping your husband knows that you ducked down the bath towel aisle.
You breathe a sigh of relief as you reach the final and most important destination: the grocery section, the whole reason you even embark on this frightfully exciting adventure every week. As you race up and down the aisles, throwing things left and right into the basket, because by this point the offspring is getting restless, you realize, hey, I just might be getting some of that heartily recommended exercise while I’m in here! Can it get any better than Wal-Mart? Lessons on nature (fish), socialization and coping skills (tantrums), and that all-important lesson of being healthy (produce section and marathon aisle running) are all provided to you weekly, with just a small fee at the checkout counter.
As you drive down Rt. 10 toward home, passing Walgreens and the Chester Village Green, you realize something: you can’t wait until next week.
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