Home Depot

Yesterday, the weather seemed a little cooler and by cooler I mean 89 degrees. So I decided to take the kids to Home Depot. We were just coming out of a 5 day incubation period after a nasty virus and we were all a little stir crazy.

 

 I wish I could say the virus was all smiles like this.

 

 

But instead it was more like this.

 

 

 

By the time it was over, we were all wiped out.

 

And I couldn't think of anything that would make us all feel better than planting more flowers.

 

So Home Depot, here we go.

 

It had been almost a week since I had taken both kids anywhere so I was real proud of myself when I managed to get the baby settled in the Baby Bjorn and Ham's hand nestled in mine.

 

I can really do this, I thought as we headed into the garden center.

 

Five minutes into walking down the aisles, I realized how much it didn't feel like 89 degrees and how it really felt like 99 degrees.

 

I grabbed a cart and asked Ham if he wanted to get inside. He threw "Fox" in and said he would ride on the side and climbed up on the side of the cart. I reminded him that he can't do that and Home Depot doesn't like it, but he wouldn't listen.

 

 

Maybe because we allowed him to do it in the past like in this picture, for example.

 

While I contemplated whether to cause a scene by insisting he get down, it started to feel like 109 degrees outside. Hattie's little face glistened with sweat and so I knew it was time to call it quits anyway.

 

I grabbed two herbs because they were close to the register and I wasn't about to leave empty handed. I just need thyme and parsley....for something.

 

I step over to the register to pay for the plants and as I'm doing this Ham is methodically pulling out each and every garden glove off of the display. I rush over and start throwing them back on and the Baby Bjorn is bouncing all over the place.  I return to the counter and hand the woman my card.

 

"You didn't see the size glove you needed?" She asked.

 

Did she miss the part where my kid removed every glove from the display?

 

"No." I said, as an older woman tapped me on the shoulder. "Excuse me, mam. Your son..." she points to Ham who has somehow wedged his entire body in the bottom part of the grocery cart. You know where you put your big bag of soil.

 

Have you ever tried to extract a small child from under a cart while your infant is strapped to your body. It's not easy.

 

But thankfully the kind Samaritan came to my rescue and dislodged my child from under the cart.

 

Sweating and breathless, I turn back to start the nine thousand questions they ask you after you swipe your card.

 

Do you want cash back.   No.

 

Do you want to put it all on one card. Yes.

 

Do you want to donate to the Red Cross?   Not today.

 

Do you want this receipt emailed to you or printed?    Seriously?

 

Is your kid about to pull the shopping cart on top of him? Wait a minute.

 

And just like that Ham had done exactly what I told him not to do. Climbed up on the side of the cart and since I wasn't there to stabilize it, the entire cart lurched forward and began to topple over right on top of my Ham.

 

It was all very slow motion like.

 

I gasped.

 

Ham's eyes grew as big as dinner plates.

 

The grocery cart flipping to its side.

 

And like a complete ninja, the elderly good Samaritan women catapulted her body over from across the flower aisles she had returned to and in one graceful swoop grabbed a hold of the cart moments before it smashed my child.

 

It was like something out of the Matrix.

 

Of course, I thanked her profusely and I glared at my three year old with my best "you are in TIME OUT buddy when you get home".

 

So maybe our little outing wasn't such a grand idea after all, but now I have parsley and thyme to show for it.