The Legend of Sleepy Holler

So we finally became “those people” whose children are out of hand.  During our rather involved pre-Thanksgiving shopping trip to Wal Mart, Stella had one of those epic meltdowns that I guess every parent dreads.  To set the stage, I hate Wal Mart.  Can’t stand it.  Wal Mart was on my “banned” list for years.  I found their “customer service” to be quite abusive.  I don’t even want to discuss a large portion of their clientele.  I have been quite happy to pay a bit more at Target (in some cases) in order to preserve my nerves and maintain serenity.  That being said, Will finally accused me of holding on too tight to my grudge (although candidly I don’t have a problem with grudges.  I’m good at grudging.) and got me to agree to go there.  We only go once in a blue moon, and only during “safe” times – early-ish on weekend mornings or when there’s a LSU football game going.

We got up bright and early Saturday to go.  Well, to clarify, Will got up earlier than usual for him on a Saturday.  Stella and I had been up since 4:30 or 5:00.  We hit Wally World at about 9:30 (by the time we were all breakfasted and dressed).  We had a lot of stuff to get for Tgiving, but I was as organized as I could be: the list was made in accordance with store layout, as were coupons.

My system broke down about 1/2way through the trip.  Stella decided that she had had enough, wanted a nap, and began intermittently trying to chew on the cart (we have a cart cover, but she would much rather gnaw on the metallic germ-covered shopping cart itself) and holler.  Will picked her up to carry, but that only resulted in immediate and total meltdown.  He carried her away to try to distract her while I finished the shopping, but I was quite aware that I could hear my child screaming from the whole way across the store.  I thought I even heard a few comments from snarky shoppers, but I really just wanted to get our stuff and get the hell out of there.

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About larva225

Working mom. Is there any other kind? Geologist. Nerd.
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