It was a simple trip to Target...

I’ve known for awhile that Mason is getting to the age where everything needs to be done his way and he needs to show his independence.  Even though I have known this was coming, even witnessed it on occasion, I’m pretty sure I had decided to ignore the fact that he is becoming his own person, as I am sure a lot of mothers do.  Well it blew up in my face today, in public, Target to be exact. 

It was just a spur of the moment trip to grab diapers; look around, more of a wasting time adventure than anything really. The time change had thrown Mason off of his schedule and we were trying to delay bedtime just a little (wait, could that have been mistake number one?).  As we were walking in Mason yells, “Cart!” as he always does and we asked him if he wanted to ride in the cart, to which he replied, “NO!” as he always does.  We decided (stupidly) to let him walk as long as he held a hand. 

He listens for a while, probably just buttering us up for his master plan.  It starts with him pushing the cart.  At barely 32” tall he needs a little help with this so I had my hand along the top bar while he pushed from down below.  He looks up and says, “Excuse me, Excuse me” and pulls my arms off the cart.  Scott steers the cart from the side, so a melt-down is avoided.  Then our clever little man decides to ditch the cart, besides who needs that slowing you down anyway? 

He takes off into the clothing section, neither Scott or I notice for a second, which really points out what superb parenting skills we have.  Scott runs after him and decides to hold him, or try to.  A wiggling, yelling, grunting match ensues, which is embarrassing and frustrating.  We know that Mason just wants to walk, but we also want to leave with the same number of people that we came with. 

We go through the store and more of the same continues to happen. Cut to us standing in line.  I am so frustrated and worn down I can’t stop laughing which is only cheering Mason on. He makes a run for the Mr. Clean floor cleaner they have by the checkout, yelling, “Juice, Juice!”  I scoop him up and he starts to kick, yell, and get red in the face, the whole nine yards.  People begin to stare, which makes my face turn red; I’m sure we looked like quite the pair.  Scott gives me the keys and stays behind to pay.  I tote a screaming Mason out to the car and try to put him in his car seat, notice I said try.  He begins to go into stiff body mode; every kid has one, you know, where all of their little muscles tense up and no matter how much you can bench press it is nearly impossible to get them back into a seated position. 

Finally I succeed, but now he is sitting in the back seat completely silent the entire ride home.  Scott asks him if he is mad at Mommy and he says, “mmm, hmm”.  Never mind that this is what he says in reply to any yes or no question (the other day I asked him if he was covered in poop and he said, “mmm, hmm”)  I am still heartbroken.  I know this was only the beginning and it makes me dread the toddler years, maybe I’ll start shopping online!