and the winner is.....

I think I deserve one.  (A parenting award, that is.) 

I mean, who takes a 23-month-old to Target AFTER she has woken said child up from a not long enough nap, taken him away from daycare where he would rather play "ow-side" than come with me, at 5:00 on a weekday when it's probably time for dinner and not shopping?

Only someone who is up for the parenting award of the century.

I read all those parenting books before Micah was born.  I had worked out in my head exactly how I was going to navigate all the "rough waters" that only those Target trips can bring, long before the trips ever occurred. And I was pretty sure that "my child" would never do that because, all in all, he IS a pretty mild-mannered kid and doesn't usually tend toward extremes.  I had seen other parents with their children in the store.  You know the ones.  They scream.  They cry.  They tantrum.  They throw things from the cart.

And sometimes the kids are really naughty, too.

I walked in the door of Target holding him in my arms.  As SOON as he saw the carts lined up, he started the whining and the "no! no! no!" not quite screaming, but not softly by any means.  A woman had walked in beside me.  Childless.  On her cell phone.  I started to put Micah in the cart, and he realized that I wasn't kidding about having to sit there, and he arched his little back, stiffened his body, and spread his legs wide apart so that they wouldn't go anywhere near the leg openings.  He was stretched to his full 30-something inch length.  And the screams came.  And THEN, the woman who walked in with me said, very clearly, into her phone, "No. That's not MINE."  And then she walked away. 

Oh. My. Word.  It's a good thing I had a rigid toddler in my arms. Someone hold me back. 

So I did what any parenting award nominee would do.  I leaned forward and I whispered in his ear in my quietest and not-so-nicest voice, and I said something to the effect of: "You sit down and you sit down NOW or I will NOT be going over to the snack bar area and asking that Target worker if I can fill up your sippy cup with clean ice water."  And then I :gently: bent his little knees and wriggled him into the cart seat.

Screams died down to cries. I did go over to the snack bar as promised.  I did fill up the sippy cup with clean ice water.  I did hand it to him.  And he promptly chucked it down on the floor.  The rest of our trip was a blur, but it went something like this. 

We headed over to the pharmacy.  That was all we were there to do, pick up a prescription.  (And I'm well aware that it's against the law to leave a child in his carseat alone even when he's sleeping soundly and you're only running in for THREE MINUTES and I would never, ever do that but sometimes that would just be so. much. easier.  I'm just sayin'.)  He yelled at the pharmacist when I asked for his medicine and she held it up.  He kept telling her "that's MINE!  that's MINE!".  Too bad he wasn't excited about "his" medicine when it came time to take it.  While we waited for her to flavor it, we went and just looked around.  By that time, he was so over the sitting in the cart thing.  And instead of listening to him whine and say "ow" (out) repeatedly with the puppy dog face, it was easier for me to pick him up and carry him.  So I pushed the cart with both hands while he sat balanced on my forearm and held onto my neck.  (Reason number TWO why I deserve this award.)

That holding him thing only lasted about 2 minutes.  I set him down in the pharmacy aisles and immediately, he took off, chattering the whole time.  I wasn't too worried about where he was.  I figured I could always follow the sound of his voice since he NEVER STOPS TALKING.  He would go up one aisle and I would follow him.  As soon as he saw me, he took off running down another aisle.  I'm not stupid.  I know how this game works.  So I would go backwards and try to cut him off by coming around the other end of the aisle.  He LOVED that game.  He would hide behind the endcap and just laugh and giggle and say something that I know was supposed to mean "peek-a-boo".  He peeked his little face around the endcap and just giggled at me.  It was kinda hard at that point to be exasperated anymore.

Once we had our medicine, we were ready to go.  Well, I was.  Micah had found lots of things he thought we needed to buy.  Hello Kitty band-aids.  "Tikki".  (cookie - which was really a granola bar)  "Eye."  A box of fruit snacks with Cookie Monster on the front - he is totally in love with Cookie Monster's big googly eyes, and he always identifies him by saying "eye".  We made it out with none of the above and back to the car.  And that's when he realized that he had to go in his carseat, and we started all over again.

See paragraph at the beginning in reference to the shopping cart.

So 'scuse me while I go finish up my acceptance speech for the parenting award that is waiting for me to rightfully claim it.  I do think I totally earned it that day.

Those were some fine, fine parenting moments, dontcha think?