I hate trying on jeans. I hate trying to find jeans that might possibly fit, and then I hate trying them on to discover they don't. Trying on jeans today, when I could hear my toddler SCREAMING at the top of his lungs in Old Navy, was ever so much worse.
I swore I wasn't going to be one of those people that dragged their overtired, screaming kid around driving other shoppers nuts. But there I was, in Old Navy, with a SCREECHING kid. As we tried to get him out of the store as quickly as possible, I found myself clutching him by the front of his coat as he tried to fling himself backwards on the concrete, wondering when I had become "that" parent.
We're home now, and my husband and I are both exhausted and annoyed. Fortunately Ben is ridiculously adorable, so it's hard to stay mad at him. But I know we are both thinking about the fact that the house is low on groceries and at some point, we're going to have to take him shopping again.
When Don and Ben finally left Old Navy and I took a deep breath getting ready to get in line with our purchases, I saw a mother pushing a stroller with a little bundle of blue blankets. It was all I could do not to grab her by the shoulders and say "DON'T let him turn TWO!!!"