when your daughter is the one screaming in the clothing dept.

yes, we dared take ruth to target yesterday.  for storage units for her multiplying toys.  and to look at diapering systems.  and a double stroller.  and lastly, to browse the baby boy clothes.  big mistake.

when we finally got to the register, the cashier told us the reason it was so crowded was because everyone was getting back their tax returns.  exactly the reason we were there.  but when we first walked in, we didn’t realize that.

things started out okay.  ruth sat up in the cart in the parking lot, but as soon as we entered the front door, she wanted to get down.  she wanted to walk, which really meant she wanted to run.  to the toy dept.  and stay there the entire time.

i finally couldn’t brush her off any more as she was trying to climb out of the cart herself, risking life and limb to get out of that thing.  as soon as her feet hit the ground, she was off.  which meant that greg was off with her, and didn’t get a chance to look at the diapers i had been eying the weekend before.

i finally caught up to them in the toy aisle with ruth taking out numerous balls and throwing/kicking them around on the ground, talking to herself in a hyped up kind of monologue.  “this ball is like my ball.  these are all my balls.  allah (ruth’s imaginary friend and/or alter ego.  not really sure) has a lot of balls at her house, but i don’t.”  and so on.  “the shelves are over there,” i pointed a few aisles down, “why don’t you go and look and i’ll stay with ruth.”  greg is no fool and took the opportunity to escape ruth’s odd tirade for a minute to calmly look at merchandise.

it didn’t take long to decide upon a nice unit and then, we were headed back to the front of the store and decided to stop and look at strollers, which happened to be right by the kids clothes.  “look at all the boy clothes.  aren’t they weird?”  i asked greg, holding up an outfit.  this was a mistake because ruth immediately got this odd gleam in her eye and started in with the talking to herself again, saying that she was going to pick out all of baby bwuza’a clothes.  we kind of ignored her, even though she was pulling outfits off the racks, because we both knew if we tried to directly tell her “no”, she would let out an ear-piercing scream.  better to give the stock people job security than to disrupt the peace.  greg lifted a stroller down and ruth immediately filled the bottom basket with clothes for herself.  she had stopped looking at clothes for her brother and had moved on to her own wardrobe, a touchy subject at our house, to put it lightly.  as soon as i reached down to try to put some of them back, she screamed, “no!  sorry!  but, um, those are mine!”  i backed away slowly, wondering if the fluorescent lighting wasn’t getting to ruth.

we browsed another few minutes and then said to ruth, interrupting the constant stream of conversation she was having with herself, “okay, c’mon ruth.  time to go.”  she began to balk.  she wasn’t done shopping she said.  then she started to throw some of the clothes into our cart.  “ruth, we aren’t here to buy clothes.  you have lots of clothes at home.  clothes cost money and we aren’t buying clothes today.  we’re buying shelves for your toys.”  this sound explanation had little to no effect on her and she only talked more excitedly as she stuffed clothes into our cart.  “ruth, no.  we are not getting that.”  i said as i began to try and take the clothes from her to put them back.  that’s when she started to scream, “NO!  THAT’S MINE!  I NEED THAT!”  to the scoffs and bemused expressions of the saturday afternoon shopping crowd.

we finally got her to the check out line and paid for our shelves.  when i reached into our cart to get our coats, however, as we were about to walk out the door, i saw a pair of white pants that had escaped our scrutiny.  we had been about to accidentally steal them.  i took them out and tucked them into a cart of items on the other side of the registers that were slated to be restocked.

it wasn’t until we had her back in the car, that we began to decipher that ruth was talking about her “new pants”, her new white pants.  that little stinker.  she knew they were still in the cart.  she thought we bought them.  all the way home, she talked about her new pants.  we kept assuring her that we hadn’t bought any pants, but she insisted that she had some new white pants.  she even looked in the trunk to find them after we got back home, and threw a sizable fit when she realized that they had been left at the store.

again, funny, crazy shit.  the whacky world of living with a three year old.


Author: Terry

Welcome! I am a Waldorf and unschooling-inspired homeschooling parent of three, ages 2, 5, and 8 living in the metro Lansing area writing from the front lines of parenthood. Join me as I try to navigate homeschooling and bask in the craziness of life with young ones. Feel free to leave a comment. I would love to hear from you! Thanks for stopping by!

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