Mother of Two Trashes Local Target Store

So my Christmas shopping is pretty much done, but I do have a few last minute things to pick up. I picked a scroll off the Christmas Tree in church. Each scroll indicates the age, gender and gift preference of a needy churchgoer. The idea is that other churchgoers (I go once a decade, so I guess I can consider myself one of those), will voluntarily pick a scroll from the tree and go purchase the gift. I wish it had been my own idea to go over and take the scroll. What really happened is that my almost 3 year-old niece walked up to the tree, ripped the thing off of it and then handed it to me proudly. (Picture a cat dragging a dead mouse to its master!) Sadly, my first instinct was to see if I could get the thing back on the tree. Then I realized that Ally had ripped it beyond repair, so I toook on this gift purchasing exercise as my own personal "cross" and decided you can never do too many good deeds!

Anyway, I thought I would see what they had at Target. I know my niece (the very same who cornered me into this gift purchasing escapade...maybe I should think twice about hanging out with that kid!), loves to go to Target, so I called my sister to see if she wanted to join me on a Target run. She was already out and about with the two kids, so she swung by school and picked me up.

The minute we got into Target, my niece started doing a little dance of joy. She loves that place. Actually, she loves it so much that my sister can no longer discuss the place in front of her in any context because at the mere mention of the word, she goes over and gets her coat, hat, mittens and shoes and is ready to head out the door. My sister tried to spell the word in front of her, as parents are wont to do. This proved to be an exercise in futility. Within a few day, my niece took to calling the place, "T-G-T." Jesus, my sister can't even say that she is going to make a cup of "tea." All the kid needs to hear is the sound "T" and she's all ready for a shopping spree. My sister also tried in vain to dupe the kid by referring to the place by the more sophisticated French-sounding, "Tar-Jay." Within a couple of days Ally had caught on. She told my sister to "Call Kerry," at the breakfast table the other morning. Kerry is my sister's friend, and she has a little girl who also has a Pavlovian response to the mention of the word Target. When my sister asked Ally why she wanted her to "call Kerry", Ally said, "We go Tar-Jay." My sister knew she was doomed.

Anyway, my niece was delighted upon learning that a Target run was on the cards for her immediate future.

You are probably about to ask yourself why this piece is entitled, "Mothher of Two Trashes Local Target Store." You are probably picturing this elated toddler wandering around, crashing down aisles, abusing toys, breaking glasswear, etc. I hate to have to admit this, but of the three of us, (My 34 year-old sister, my 32 year-old self, and my almost 3 year-old niece), my niece wins the "best behaved in Target" contest hands down.

I was parched at the beginning of our trip so I made a bee-line for the snack bar. I ordered a small diet pepsi for myself and one for my sister. I'm so used to small beverages being the size of toddler swimming pools that I naturally order smalls wherever I go. I have to say that at Target, the small was actually, well...small! My sister had adjourned to the can while I held down the fort with the kids and ordered the sodas. When she returned, I apologized for ordering such a small drink. She said, "No problem. You can just refill it." I didn't see any "free refill" signs, but that did not stop her from returning to the machine about three times.

As we continued our shopping spree, my sister proclaimed her astonishment at having to use the bathroom again, after having just gone. I wonder if those three sodas had anything to do with it. She returned from the bathroom complaining that the woman in front of her was using the hand drying machine for an eternity. I think she said something about the woman using the machine to blow dry her 60's stye beehive into place. I asked her how her hands were so dry if she hadn't had the chance to dry them. She admitted to wiping her hands on the first fleece she saw in the boy's department on her way back to find us.

I shouldn't have asked.

Later, as we made our way through the toy department, I found a cute little phone. The parent can record a nice message for the child to listen to. Presumably this is some kind of comfort toy for a child who goes to nursery school for the first time or finds himself in some other such situation where separation anxiety might be an issue. I was recording sweet little messages and playing them back for my niece.

My sister urged me to shout "JERK' viciously down the phone, and then leave it there for the next customer. I am not sure why I actually did it, but now I am doubled over with feelings of guilt at some parent proudly handing this gift to their kid, the kid going to playschool with the thing, pressing "PLAY", becoming horrified and telling the teacher, who files a 51A child abuse complaint against the parent and gets the kid removed from the home!

Maybe the title of this should have been, "Mother of Two Trashed Target and Auntie of Two Busts up Happy Family!"

Merry Christmas!!!