Tip of The Year: Don't Take Your Kids Shopping

The other day I took Connor shopping with me. Connor is four. Connor thinks that he needs everything he sees, everything is magical, and everything in the world is the key to his life's happiness. Not a day goes by that he doesn't ask me or his dad for a minimum of twenty "special" (read: ridiculous) things, starting with asking for gum or lollipops at 7:30 in the morning.

He is always denied. Yet, he tries. Every day.

First, we went to Toys 'R Us, otherwise known as the Seventh Circle of Hell or Mecca of Insanity. You choose. Actually, you probably have your own special name for it but whatever. We started in the baby clothes section, not because I have a baby anymore (a thousand daggers went into my heart at typing that; I fucking LOVE babies) but so I could look for onesies for my business. Connor found some onesies that he liked and asked if we could buy them. I asked who they would be for and he said for him and Ethan... 

...Ethan is six. 

I explained to him that they weren't really his or Ethan's size, and then complimented his fashion choices. On we went to another section. Connor asked to buy a dish set for Brandon, seventy-five different tubes of toothpaste, some Q-Tips, and an Angry Birds toothbrush. Denied. Then we walked past the baby swing section and he asked to buy a baby swing for Brandon. 

Who is two and a half. 

Then we went to the toy side, and that's where shit got real. Every twelve seconds, I heard "Mama, can we buy this?" After a while, I stopped answering him and he didn't even notice because he had moved onto The Next Best Thing That Will Make His Life Worth Living. Finally, he asked if he could get some Legos.

I told him that we could at least take a look at the Lego section and see if there was something small that he would like. He got super excited and happy and I felt like the Mom of The Day for finally telling him that he could have something. I was thinking we could probably find a small Lego set for like five bucks.

Obviously, I am a Lego-buying virgin. We went to the Lego section and I saw the prices and about shit myself. 

I thought formula and diapers were expensive. LEGOS ARE THE BIGGEST WALLETFUCK I HAVE EVER SEEN.

To make matters worse, Legos are the bane of every parent's existence. Well, except for Play-Doh. You pay out of your anus to bring these bastards home, only to step on them, sit on them, break your eardrums at the sound of them being dumped out of a box or at the sound of little hands swishing through the box for 39 minutes to find the flat, two-millimeters-square reflector-light-looking piece that is the only thing that will complete the car, listen to your kids fight over them, watch your kid and husband spend 75 hours putting together the intricate windmill only to have it fall apart 45 seconds later, and have your kids cry at night when they can't find the beheaded, one-armed Lego Man that is the only thing that will comfort them to sleep - that night.

What a bunch of stupid, masochistic people we are. I'm not sure which is more insulting: Paying that much to be tortured by Legos or some dude paying for a hooker and then contracting a venereal disease from her. Paying to be Lego-tortured or paying to contract V.D.... Toss up.

But I digress. Back at the store, Connor was looking at the Lego sets and of course he wanted the Really Cool Fighter Jets and Lego Cities and Gigantic Trucks at $70+ a pop. I kept telling him that they were too big and "Remember, I said you could have a small (read: cheaper) Lego set. Why don't we look down here." We looked "down here" and when I saw that the cheapest Lego product I could find was $9 and it consisted of a two-piece motorcycle, I started bribing Connor with candy to distract him from the fact that we weren't going to get a Lego set and to get him the hell out of the store. On our way out, I bought him and Ethan Angry Bird sticker books, a Cars sticker book for Brandon (yes, I paid to find 1678 stickers all over the house for the next month), and some candy from the quarter machines. 

I thought he'd be satisfied. I am stupid.

We went to Dollar Tree next, to get Valentines for the boys' classmates to throw away 27 seconds after receiving them, and various other shit that I didn't know I needed until I saw it there. "It's only a dollar!" Connor of course began his ritual of asking me for crap every twelve seconds, and at one point, when I saw that he was asking for some unidentifiable lead-based plastic piece of crap that would break instantly, and then Brandon would choke on the parts and Ethan will die of lead poisoning, I asked him, "Do you even know what that is?"

He responded, "No."

Jesus. Then he asked me if I could buy him a box of "feminine rinse" a few aisles later because he liked the pretty flower on the box, and I told him to stop asking me for stuff - not that he listened. I did cave on the sparkle toothpaste, four bags of candy, pack of pretzel dips, Angry Birds mouthwash, pack of glow sticks, Scotch tape for his brother (don't ask), pack of gum, and foam stickers.

That's eleven dollars, plus tax, that I can never get back. Not even to mention the Toys 'R Us purchases.

The moral of the story: Don't take your kids shopping.

Look at the Angry Birds loot I conned my mom into buying!

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