Have I mention that I hate shopping?
Ok, I probably have.
Let me first set the scene. We went shopping bright and early this morning. Very early. Momma doesn't do mornings. Momma especially doesn't do mornings when there's no coffee involved.
We hit the yard sales, completely drama free. Then my sister talks me into a trip to the mall. I make a wrong turn, landing us preciously in the middle of nowhere. How did I mess up simple directions?
I'm going to blame the crying 4 year old, screaming in my ear that he just wants to go home. After begging to go. Maybe it was the book he chucked up at me? Or maybe it was my own screaming towards the backseat?
We finally arrive, and little man is a pure ball of energy. Seriously would love to know who spiked his sippy cup. With the way he bounced off the walls, you'd think he had been chugging coffee all morning instead of water.
As we pay, the sweet old lady at the register asks about him, tells us about her kids and grandkids, and makes small talk. But as we walk away, she leans over to me and says, "I recommend sedatives." And that was it.
Seriously, lady, for me or him?