toothpastefordinner.com

Thank goodness. I thought I was the only one who said stuff like this.

When my husband and I first began dating, I was pleasantly surprised to find out that he actually liked going shopping.   The man may not know how to fix a car, but he can spend hours at an outlet mall, and I’m not sure that I would trade. And hands off ladies, he’s mine!

So when I had my son, I wasn’t worried.  I mean, I figured there was no way the shopping gene could be recessive.  It was dominant, dammit, and I was going to be able to cart my little guy around from store to store with no problem.

Up until recently, the Munchkin had me fooled.  He would go willingly with me just about anywhere. I don’t know if it was simply the enjoyment of getting out of the house, or the novelty of being in a brightly lit building with lots and lots of stuff.

Well, the novelty wore off. Fast.

Now, I am stuck with having to resort to the lowest form of behavior modification in the motherhood handbook.

 You know, bribery.   

It has become a game of chicken, which I have begun losing at an alarming rate.  I try to start out modestly, proposing the barest of incentives first.  But the boy, he is bright. He senses my level of desperation and with a cold calculation that belies his five years on earth, makes his demands.

This small child could make a seasoned trial lawyer break out into a cold sweat.   He could force a flea market seller to run away from his stall, weeping in frustration.  His Grandma? Never even had a chance.

So if you see me at Target sometime and notice my son lounging in the cart, simultaneously playing his video game, contentedly sipping on some refreshing fruit punch and munching popcorn, look away.  Just look away and know that I am a mother who has caved to get that laundry detergent. 

But judge ye not harshly. There but for the grace of God go you.

And to my future daughter-in-law, I sincerely apologize.  We can cross our fingers and hope that it only skips one generation.