We go to Targetￂﾮ sometimes.
I have a friend who goes there all the time. Her son thought up a dragon toy that had wheels for feet and breathed ice cream instead of fire. He said you could ride it like a bike. He also said he wanted one for his birthday. When his mom explained that it didn't really exist he suggested she look for one at Targetￂﾮ. (They probably do have this. If not, their merchandising team has make a mistake because this thing sounds wicked cool.)
Anyway, this is what happens when I go there...
First of all, my local store has these monstrous kid carts. My kids LOVE these carts because they both fit. These things are huge. It is a regular cart with an additional two-seater thing bolted on. I think it makes the cart like 34 feet long. I feel so ridiculous trying to maneuver around the aisles that I wind up laughing almost the entire time we are there. (Well played, Targetￂﾮ.)
So anyway, we arrive and I announce that we just need one little thing. This is to both let the kids know we won't be there long and also as a reminder to myself.
But as we walk through the doors, something happens:
That is not a bulls-eye. That is a hypnotic-eye.
Because moments later:
I'm walking back to the car with an overflowing cart.
I have no idea what just happened.
And I'm pretty sure I forgot to buy the one thing I went in there for.
Originally published on my crappy blog: Parenting. Illustrated with Crappy Pictures™.