Is it just me or do other parents wake up in the morning with thoughts of how they will embarrass their children in public on any given day? Does anyone else find the need to plot revenge for impertinence or come up with strategically planned and properly executed practical jokes knowing your kids will roll their eyes and pretend ignorance of your existence?
When the spawn were young and impressionable, grocery shopping and trips to the mall were fun. It was a smorgasbord of slap-stick comedy and props and took nothing more than juggling tangerines at Publix to get a belly-rumbling laugh from either one of the two. Now that the spawn are fifteen and sixteen “respectively” (insert your own chuckle here), the acts of sabotage are more difficult to achieve.
I’ll give you an example. A few months ago Spawnette informs me there are still a number of items she needs before going on her ninth-grade class trip. The next day. It’s Easter Sunday. In a small Southern town. Where the hell did she think we were going to go? But ah-HA, there WAS a store open. One bound to be extremely crowded on this Easter Sunday afternoon. And what store would that be? None other than the dreaded life-sucking parasitic desperado…..Wal-Mart.
I despise Wal-Mart. It leeches tolerance, kindness, and patients out of all humanity. It turns sweet, blue-haired ladies into the vampiric creatures of small children’s nightmares. Its horror descends upon the unsuspecting leaving nothing but bloody stumps and appendages behind. It’s every human being’s nightmare come to life in 3-D Technicolor. It is hell.
When the spawn were young and impressionable, grocery shopping and trips to the mall were fun. It was a smorgasbord of slap-stick comedy and props and took nothing more than juggling tangerines at Publix to get a belly-rumbling laugh from either one of the two. Now that the spawn are fifteen and sixteen “respectively” (insert your own chuckle here), the acts of sabotage are more difficult to achieve.
I’ll give you an example. A few months ago Spawnette informs me there are still a number of items she needs before going on her ninth-grade class trip. The next day. It’s Easter Sunday. In a small Southern town. Where the hell did she think we were going to go? But ah-HA, there WAS a store open. One bound to be extremely crowded on this Easter Sunday afternoon. And what store would that be? None other than the dreaded life-sucking parasitic desperado…..Wal-Mart.
I despise Wal-Mart. It leeches tolerance, kindness, and patients out of all humanity. It turns sweet, blue-haired ladies into the vampiric creatures of small children’s nightmares. Its horror descends upon the unsuspecting leaving nothing but bloody stumps and appendages behind. It’s every human being’s nightmare come to life in 3-D Technicolor. It is hell.
I do not want to go shopping; I hate shopping. And I really do not want to go shopping in the only store open this lovely Easter Sunday. Spawnette is a browser. She has difficulty deciding upon which pair of white socks she will wear every day of the week. All her socks are the same. We. Will. Be. There. For. Hours. Hours of shopping are unacceptable so I must put my thinking cap on to devise a way to get in and out of hell as quickly as possible. What gets Spawnette moving faster than a speeding bullet? Humiliation and embarrassment. Wow, the ideas were endless. Should I change into my flamingo and trailer pajamas, grab my green frog slippers, and roll some pink curlers into my hair? Pajamas – check. Slippers – check. Rollers – SHIT – I don’t have any rollers. I looked for a breast plate and helmet so that I could do my impersonation of King Leonidas but failed to locate the necessary costume for an authentic reenactment of the Battle of Thermopylae. Crap. I had to call in forces and submit to the deviously scheming thoughts of Spawn. He liked the King Leonidas idea and went off to construct a leather skirt and wrist bands. “Good luck with that, Honey, let me know when you’re done.”
And then it hit me; I had just organized my arts and crafts and sewing materials. I had brown fake fur and some tartanesque material. I had plastic swords and daggers and a nice leather belt. I had the makings of William Wallace and I was raring to go. I slipped on my work boots, wrapped the pieces of fur around my shins and tied them on with yarn. I threw the plaid material over my shoulder and fastened in to my waist with a belt. Dagger in boot and sword in belt I left my room and headed for the front door hollering over my shoulder to Spawnette that Spawn and I would be waiting in the car. (He never did come up with leather for the skirt and wrist bands so he settled for a little kid’s plastic police helmet and a big foam sword.) Would you believe she was so busy primpin’ and make-upin’ that she never did notice our attire? Until, that is, we got out of the car in the parking lot of hell. She whipped her long hair over her shoulder and with piercing eyes and lips pulled back in a snarl she told me I wasn’t to walk closer than ten feet behind her and I was not to say one word to her because “I will not respond to ONE word YOU have to SAY!!!!”
Walking into the building I ran into a supervisor from work; he told me I looked good.
We were in and out in under 25 minutes.
Learn. From. The. Master.
Wanna see what I looked like?
Cooper thought that I looked HOT, even with my highlander scowl.
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