A Ballerina and Her Brother Go Shopping

Today began so smoothly. I took the dog for a walk, drank my coffee in peace and quiet, and even took a shower all before 8:00 a.m. It was a beautiful thing.

The kids awoke on their own around 8:15 and meandered downstairs to the kitchen. They ate their breakfasts with just a little prompting - and a lot of bribery. I promised they could play with their NinetendoDSs once they finished eating, dressed, and brushed teeth and hair. It worked. I felt victorious at 9:30 as we walked out the door to go to Ainsley's ballet class. We weren't rushing and no one was yelling.

Ian met some other older brothers in the waiting area of the ballet studio. They, too, had brought their NintendoDSs. It was the closest to a testosterone bonding moment any eight year-old boy could have. He wasn't a nerd or an Aspie - he was just one of the guys.

After class, I wanted to go to three stores. The prognosis for success was excellent so far. Everyone was in a good mood, but we were getting a little thirsty. To keep spirits high, I pulled into a 7-Eleven for Slurpees. This was a good move. The excitement of getting a cold, fruity drink on a hot June morning is a three dollar investment that usually pays large dividends.

As we were exiting the van, Ian climbed over Ainsley in an effort to be first. He's a bull in a china shop when it comes to social graces. We had a brief discussion (for the 400th time) about how the person sitting next to the open door should get out first to avoid unnecessary injuries.

Most people experience a Slurpee stop as a brief pause in a busy day. For us, it's a major undertaking, requiring quick thinking and organization. One distraction by the chip or candy isle can mean a complete derailment of plans and a meltdown of volcanic proportions. Almost as bad is the discovery that the flavor one of the kids wanted is out. Fortunately, neither of these situations arose. Our main difficulty was in getting the straws out of their tight plastic wrappers. Then Ainsley dropped her straw on the floor by the checkout. Naturally, she felt compelled to lick it after it landed. I shuddered to think where people's feet had been and then decided against having her tongue amputated as a precaution. But we did go get a new straw.

Back at the van, Ian got in and fastened his seatbelt with record speed. Ninendo was waiting. Ainsley needed a little help getting in and determining what order her tasks should take. I held her Slurpee and Nintendo and helped her negotiate the seat belt. The rest was easy after that.

Next stop: the framing shop. A mat I ordered on Saturday was ready. Neither child wanted to leave the car. I assured them this would be a very short stop. Ian was not thrilled, but he complied. Less than ten minutes after I had instructed him on proper van exiting etiquette, he again attempted to climb over his sister to get the unwanted chore done faster. I could tell he was already beginning to tire of our errands.

At the next location, both kids began to protest having to go inside. I assured them we were only going in to buy dog food, and then we'd be right back out. Even I knew it was a lie. No one ever leaves Costco with just one item. It just isn't right. We didn't make it either. As we meandered down the isle I thought would get us to the dog food the fastest, Ian decided we were running low on mac-n-cheese. OK, throw a box in the basket. Then came the fifty pound bag of Beneful. Ainsley said she was hungry and needed a snack. I decided we'd stop by the bakery and get some cookies for the upcoming holiday weekend. On the way there we found a great beach umbrella to put next to the pool. Eventually, we made it to the bakery where Ian picked chocolate chip cookies, and Ainsley decided she needed chocolate chip mini-muffins. OK - BUT NOTHING ELSE!

As we were standing in line at the check-out, Ainsley's mouth was going non-stop. Each sentence seemed to run together and get louder. She kept repeating, "Mama, I want to carry the muffins." No matter how many times I said that was fine, she kept repeating and increasing her volume. Then suddenly, the sentence changed:

"MOMMY, WHY IS THAT MAN SO FAT?"

She was speaking of the large young man who walking toward our line.

"Ainsley!" I said sternly. "Stop talking!" I said in a loud whisper. She kept on with the FAT comments. I repeated my command, yet she continued. Finally, I put my hand over her mouth, looked her straight in the face and explained that we don't make comments about other people's appearance. It is not polite.

I was mortified.

Never trust an adorably precious girl dressed in a pink tutu.

On the way out to the car, Ian insisted on carrying the cookies, and Ainsley just had to carry the muffins. When we got to the van, I opened the side door with my remote and proceeded to unload the cart. Then, just as Ainsley was climbing into the doorway, Ian ran her over and plowed through to his seat on the other side. Ainsley was left crying, one sandal half removed from her foot, and a container of muffins smashed on the floor of the van.

"IAN DO NOT TOUCH THOSE COOKIES OR YOUR NINTENDO!" I boomed. I hugged Ainsley and helped her get into her seat.

"Ian, which is more important: cookies and your Nintendo or your sister who is hurt?" I asked as quietly and calmly as I could with Ainsley screaming in my ear.

"Ummmmm.... Ainsley?" he replied meekly.

"That's right. Did you make a good choice in running her over like that?"

"No," again in a saddened voice.

"You owe her an apology," I said sternly.

"Sorry, Ainsley."

I could feel the creases in my forehead deepening and turning purple as I tried to stay calm. The next decision was an easy one - we were heading home. The grocery store would have to wait until tomorrow. It will be weeks before I feel I can show my face at Costco again. Next time, I'll leave the kids at home and wear a baseball cap and dark sunglasses.