The defined situation of taking my children with me Holiday Shopping, as provided by Merriam Webster dictionary:
SHOP Inflected Form(s): shopped; shop•ping
1 : to examine goods or services with intent to buy
2: to hunt through a market in search of the best buy
CHILD Pronunciation: ˈchī(-ə)ld
1 : an unborn or recently born person
2 : a young person especially between infancy and youth
HELL Pronunciation: ˈhel
1 : a place or state of misery, torment, or wickedness
2 : a place or state of turmoil or destruction
I have had this lovely Holiday image for the past 8 years: spending quality time with my children, laughing at all the silly singing Santas, the children putting change from my purse into the Salvation Army Globes, sitting on Santa's lap and telling their magical Christmas wishes, whimsical lights and stopping for a nice toasty white hot chocolate at the food court.
When will I ever learn?
Not only do I get to deal with the hellish minions that are other Holiday shoppers, but Lucifer himself transforms my otherwise very well behaved children (at least in public and around other adults) into little goblins. Trying to hold onto my children's hands, my purse and the few little bags of purchases I am able to cross off my list, like spawning salmon swimming upstream I push forward to try to find the next store...which I passed about 6 stores back with no notice. Refuge! The giant Christmas tree, the little toy train, the faux presents and twinkling lights. Its Santa!
My children shriek with joy as we make our way up to the frosted gates. A hand juts out, just like a railway barrier,“To the end of the line ma'am." Wide eyed I stare in horror -not only that I at 29 have been called ma'am, for the first time ever - but at the snaking line slithering its way out of sight. "We'll come back another time.”I bold-faced lie to my children, and they know it.
Like demons being exorcised, my children react with shrieks, wails, contorting faces and bodies thrown to the floor. I embarrassingly try to pick my son's limp body off the floor, fall to my knees and simultanelously grab my daughters arm as she tries to flee, my purse contents and shopping items spill onto the floor. Whispers and stares arise “Wow, if my children ever behaved like that...” “What kind of mother lets her child act that way in public...” “What brats...”
I want to scream that this is not the norm! I want to explain to these complete strangers who are probably visiting family for the Holidays from another province or country, that my children are sweet helpful little wonders that just had their wishes of meeting Santa shattered! I swing my children in front of me and in a low growl say,“We’re going home. NOW.”
I gather all the items on the floor, with no help from staring passers-by. I take my children by the hand and lead them to the nearest exit (which also happens to be on the complete other side of the mall from where I parked).
Lucifer has won again this season, but I still hold out hope for that beautiful image I envision every year ... but hey, I still have 5 years left until my eldest is a teen.
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