Escape from Planet Target

I'll update the health watch later, but today saw much more pressing business for me: Easter basket shopping. We were just informed that AJ's school will be having some Easter festivities on Thursday, and that we are required to bring treat-filled eggs for about a dozen kids. This is not a big deal, but it's just one more little purchase mandated by a school that's pretty expensive to begin with. We get hit up for snacks for the whole class, a birthday board that we got way too into...stuff like that. Anyway, since we needed to grab things for class, I decided I'd get everything for the weekend too. B already got us started with some stuff for Courtney, so mostly what I needed was a basket for AJ and some fun stuff to go in it. No problem.

I arrive at the Easter aisles and it is as if someone issued a memo that today was the day to strike. This wasn't Friday or Saturday level shopping, with pitiful, picked-over shelves of sticky chocolate remnants. No, this looked like all of West Little Rock's alpha moms had decided now was the time to attack and get the good stuff. Shopping just under this condition would have been fine. But I had both little ones with me at the time. C was happily chilling in her car seat. But the boy perked up as soon as we reached the good stuff. The phrase "Daddy, I need THAT," was uttered roughly seventy five times over the next five minutes. This wasn't necessarilly a bad thing, because if I was able to angle the cart in just such a way that he could see but not reach something he really wanted, I could then infiltrate the opposite shelf, sneaking items into my cart unnoticed. No small feat with this kid, who catches evidence like a crack CSI team member.

Anyway, my major error was not making a detailed list of exactly what to get. I'm absolutely that guy now. If I go to the store without a list and I need more than two things, it's not working out well for anybody. Now, I actually had a list, but it was too vague. "Easter basket stuff," was an entry. Come on. I'm better than that. I might has well have just written down "BUY STUFF."

Anyway: basket selection. I went with a pretty generic blue one while AJ was distracted by the cooler-looking car and truck ones. While I passed it around my back and deftly dropped it into the cart, he got his paws on a yellow, plush, truck basket and was instantly disappointed. He tugged sadly at the wheels, which didn't turn, because it was just a glorified stuffed animal. "Daddy, this doesn't work," he announced, pushing it back onto the shelf.

Then onto candy. I tried to get a mix of mostly allergy friendly, little treats that would fit into the standard plastic eggs. Now I know that some kids are allergic to chocolate, and let's not sugar coat it (no pun intended), that sucks. I can stray away from peanut butter for school goodies, but I'm drawing the line at chocolate. Okay, not completely. I got some gummi-critters and other stuff too. I didn't say I was drawing a very firm line. But honestly, for candy-centric holiday celebrations, there really must be chocolate.

I made my way to the toy aisle for supplementary basket goodies, including several Hot Wheels cars for the track that AJ has been loving since his birthday. He continued to run down the list of his needs, which included but was not limited to: several sets of cars, numerous trains, some Star Wars stuff, and at least three toys that he didn't even know what they were. Again, the distractions were nice, because I was able to pop my wares under the baby seat without him catching me. Courtney sets a nice screen in her seat, and she was still hanging out quietly.

Then, it was time to check out. Shit. I have to get all of this on the conveyor without him seeing it. I then remembered that both Walt Disney and Steve Jobs are certifiable geniuses that made it possible for me to carry Mickey Mouse around in my pocket. I fired up an episode of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse on my iPhone and set it down next to him in the cart. Would that actually work?

Indeed it would. He was riveted. Didn't bat an eye as I lifted his sister out and loaded all the purchases up. But then, she had her issue. Immediate wailing. I realized that it was one o'clock, and she's been ready for her big afternoon bottle about half an hour or so before that lately. Dammit. Time to act like a spy getting to the extraction point as quickly as possible. Boy's still diverted? Check. Set the girl's seat on the ground while I rock it gently with one hand and pay by debit with the other. Mix in the pacifier here and there. Get the bags (and her, to cover them, and to soothe her with the motion of the cart) back in as quickly as possible. Tell AJ that he needs to hold onto my phone while we go to the car. Tactically risky, to be sure, but gambling that he won't randomly decide to fire the phone like a Daniel Bard fastball is a chance I need to take at this point. We're rolling out. He's quiet. She's quiet. The goodies remain undiscovered.

We actually pulled it off.

"A pretty nice little Saturday, actually."

I remember the days when Saturday meant sleeping in, deciding which games to watch, and then going out. Here is what today's looked like:

* Get the boy up and fed.
* Assemble his Christmas gift Batman Big Wheel since it is finally nice enough to use it.
* Take the boy for a hair cut.
* Pick up some new clothes for the kids because they are both growing like weeds.
* Get a few groceries for tonight.
* Get home, get everyone fed.
* Fill up the car.
* And get it washed.
* Pick up some birthday stuff for A.J. at Target, along with some pajamas for Courtney since she has outgrown practically every pair she now has.
* Grab some big quantity items at Sam's Club.
* Stop at Kroger to pick up two things I forget to get earlier. I now have a brain like a marshmallow, and if I don't write things down on my list, I almost always forget them.
* Come home. Five minutes of down time to check email and write this before both of the kids will be up. This will probably be followed by:

* Snack time.
* Outside play time.
* World War III when we announce that outside play time is ending.
* Cook dinner.
* Eat dinner.
* Slyly convince AJ to eat something green that grew in the ground at dinner.
* Bath time.
* Story time.
* Bed time.
* Clean up or laundry for a bit.
* Then, finally, relax.

And this is now a typical Saturday. I'm not complaining, just observing how much things change. Do they still have one dollar drafts at Balboa Cafe in Tempe???