It was the middle of the Kindergarten Year From Hell. B was two – a tightly wound package of tenacity operating on filched Hershey Kisses and six hours of sleep a night (a story for another day). We dropped G off at school, and though I knew I should go straight home, I stopped at Walmart for a few items.
The store was largely empty at 8:15 that morning. My cart’s wheel rattled like the gates of the underworld, a fitting omen I ignored. Attempting to exit the store prior to a meltdown, I forged onward into the breach, sliding graham cracker peace offerings to my sleepy toddler.
But it was not to be. As we walked past the accessory department, B’s eyes landed on the toddler equivalent of the one ring: a sparkling pink purse, bedecked with rhinestones and glitter, and, ever-fetchingly, shaped like a dog.
My little Smeagol stared at the purse. She turned to me.
“Mommy? Can I get that?”
Walk a little faster, Ginny. Keep on moving. Distraction, distraction, distraction. [Read more…] about Being accused of child abuse in Walmart, and what it taught me