Tarbuts & Donods

I’ve had a number of blog-worthy days here this last week, but I decided that I’d perhaps write about a few things that I’ve…um…observed.  

Day One:  We went to the pumpkin patch with Brighton’s preschool, and I realized that I most certainly could NOT do what preschool teachers and daycare providers do.  
Day Two:  Being old does not automatically make you handicapped…and therefore you shouldn’t use the handicapped bathroom stall.  As far as I’m concerned, if you’re shopping with a stroller or a toddler in a shopping cart, that IS your handicap and you’re fully entitled to use the largest stall in the restroom.  
Day Three:  I walk into a store, “toss” my child into a shopping cart, ask someone where the restrooms are, and assume I can make a B-line for the bathroom (after my quad espresso + double tall latte) child and purse in cart, racing the restroom.  I don’t expect 1. to be told I can’t take the cart into the restroom because A. it’s empty and B. the clerk tells me it is a “fire hazard.”  (huh?!)  When I walk into the hallway then the bathroom, it’s cluttered with rolling carts and racks and basically CRAP.  But I have to take the time (while almost wetting my pants) removing said child and purse from the EMPTY shopping cart, to make my way to the bathroom.  So…my cart is a fire hazard, (in case of fire my cart would block traffic…) but all the other crap in the bathroom/storage area isn’t? 
Day Three almost over:  It’s time to go home and Brighton is starting to get whiney.  I understand, he’s tired, hasn’t had a great nap, and it’s going to be a long ride home.  We pass the mall and all I hear from the back seat  “Tarbuts!” “Tarbuts, Mom!”  And the rest goes a little something like this:
“What?” I say.

“Tarbuts, tarbuts!” *you fool-don’t you speak English?*
“You want Starbucks?”

“Yeaas…” *duh? didn’t you just hear me say that?*
I start to pull into the turning lane to go through the drive through because honestly, I’m thinking I can’t make 
it through the next 30 minutes if I don’t have some *Tarbuts* myself…but then…

“No! No Tarbuts”
“You don’t want Starbucks now?”

“nooooo (whine), Donods.”

“Donads!” *good God woman, clean out your ears!*

“Yes, Donads!” 
“No honey, we’re going to eat pretty soon, no McDonalds tonight.  I’ll make you some Starbucks when we get home.”

*sigh*  I anticipate a looooooooong and whiney ride home.  About 1 mile from our drive, I starts wailing.  I 
admit, I lost my temper and told him “STOP WHINING!” (In my defense, it was a constant releasing air from a balloon sound all the way home…for THIRTY MINUTES…that mmnnmmnnmmnnmmnn…like a hungry puppy minus the drool) at which time I promptly pulled the car over onto the shoulder and in leu of ramming my vehicle straight into the first telephone pole I saw,  I saw his big tears, my heart softened, and I asked, “Did Mommy hurt your feelings?” (oh don’t go gettin’ all self righteous with me…you’ve ALL lost your temper on some cute little kid, you know you have!)

“Yeeeeeeeeeeeees…” *as he wipes away his big crocodile tears*
“Oh babe,Mom’s sorry.  She shouldn’t have yelled.  Can you hold out for just a few more minutes until we get home?  And please stop whining?  Sing a song!” *do something other than whine before my head explodes!*

“Tay”  *sniffle sniffle*
“Tay.” I repeat.
Finally we get home and he sees daddy’s car in the driveway and perks up.  Daddy greets him at the door of the car and rescues him.  
We spent the rest of the night together watching “pendins” (Happy Feet) &”meemo” (Finding Nemo) and it turned out to be a good night afterall.  

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