The shopping trip I almost survived.

For the past week, every time I open a document to write something,  I have been mysteriously disturbed by more important things. Last time I remember, it was hunger. Basically, I did not do justice to my blog in the month of October. I do not call this a writer’s block, as it is applicable only to writers. A more plausible term would be laziness.

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My husband and I work at the same office, and obviously stay in the same house so the only time we take time off each other is while shopping. Aaron, my son, usually chooses to hang out with me because I carry around a mini living room  which contains everything he needs except a TV and sound system – namely water, biscuits, wipes, extra clothes, shoes, sanitizer, napkins, coconut oil, tiny toys (just in case the patience limit is exceeded) the list is never ending. Whereas, whenever he hung out with his Dad, he returned like he came from battle ground. I take him shopping and keep the conversations going…’Aaron did you like this dress?’ Without a pause I involve him in whatever I check out at the mall, because non involvement makes kids extremely bored, frustrated and unwanted. This causes screaming, hunger, loo visits that are not genuine, thirst, "I miss Appaaaa" and other unexplained catastrophes that I am forced to dump the shopping bag and make an exit as fast as possible. And leaving the shopping bag at the shop without billing it is not easy. It contains carefully selected stuff and things I may not want other 'lovely ladies' at the mall to have. Well one thing they don’t tell you about motherhood is about having to let go of shopping bags that will never make it to the billing counter.  

So, yesterday he had an extra class at school. Yes my son who is in nursery had extra class for his upcoming dance concert. In my school days, the first time we ever came across anything that involved waking up early on a weekend was in the tenth grade. Even then it was ridiculous enough. After his ‘extra class’ we went to the mall, because it was November 1^st and salary was credited into the account, which was a feeling of fresh rain on a dry, parched land. As usual, my conversation with the little one started, keeping him cheerful and engaged. I also chose a nice hat for him to keep his spirits high. I showered him with compliments too, which made him feel really good. He was hopping around with me, and even offered to carry the shopping bag – well it was more dragging than carrying.

I reached the cosmetics section and was checking out some nail polishes, and I asked Aaron to see if there was something he liked. The section was handled by a sweet lady with very small eyes and heavy makeup. She was like the poster girl for the makeup section and looked like she wore every possible makeup that was available. After a few seconds I realized that Aaron had been silent for a while. I turned around to check on Aaron and he was staring at this lady, while she was trying her best to ignore him. I interrupted him and said  ‘Aaron come here…see this?’ and he came to me saying in his broken English ‘ Amma…look’ and pointing directly at this woman’s face who was standing right behind me, he blurted out  ‘CARTOON’.

I had lost my will to shop. I held Aaron’s hand, and left that section in a hurry frantically searching for any scarf that I can get to cover my face. I did not give a second look at this lady who must have been mortified. If someone said that to my face I’d be really insulted and wouldn't feel any better just because it came from a toddler or a talking parrot. I did not apologize and make it bigger for the same reason. And I fled like there was fire. Later while I waited outside with Aaron I explained that it was bad manners to point at people. He nodded, but I wouldn't expect a three year old to understand social code of conduct. In fact he was checking out his forefinger to see if something was wrong, because I told him not to point :-/ 

That was another weekend of my volatile shopping trip with little Aaron. Like every other day, I ended up buying more stuff for him than for myself. Sigh.