The acorn doesn’t fall far from the tree, but it manages to roll toward the mall.
I bought gasoline at Costco today. It seemed like a good deal, but now I don’t know where to put the other 30 gallons of gas.
After filling up, we stopped at Home Depot for a new toilet paper holder to avoid another TP tragedy like yesterday. It was $15 and it doesn’t match anything else in the house, but now I can be assured there will be no more TP malfunctions in Anna’s bathroom. We then stopped at Kohl’s to look for a nice white cardigan sweater for Anna. She wanted to be carried from the parking lot to the store, but said that once she was in the store, she would “get some new batteries,” which is a metaphor we use to get her to nap. Essentially, my three-year-old just told me that shopping perks her up. Jennifer and I consider brick-and-mortar shopping to be a necessary evil at best, so were on earth is she getting this from? Maybe the shopping gene skips a generation. Inside the store, all of the clothes in her size look like the sort of clothes she would pick for herself: Dora this, princess that. Only the size 7-16 section had the sort of clothes Mom & Dad would pick out.
Afterward, we stopped by GTC Academy, but what is normally “open bounce” turned out to be “closed meet.” Finally, we stopped by the farmer’s market to utilize their bouncers. Since the market was so busy, we had to park some distance away. Anna said since that she was only in the store for a short time, she only had one battery, and she needed to be carried to the bouncers. Yes, that’s right, she wanted to be carried to the place where she jumps up and down for half an hour. It was then that I did my best to walk the line beween making my point unmistakeably clear and drawing suspicious glances from other parents in telling Anna, “If you are too tired to walk, you are too tired to bounce. You will walk the rest of the way, and if I hear any more whining, we will turn around and go home and you will go straight to bed.” At first, she obliged, and walked solemnly toward the bouncers, but then she began silently mouthing complaints at me as she walked, like some sort of whining mime1. I decided not to argue the technicality.
At home, she recovered after a lunch of strawberries and… well, she really only ate strawberries. Now she’s down for nap, in theory at least; I hear her occasionally wandering about, so she probably is not getting any actual rest.
1 “Whining Mimes” would be an excellent name for a band.