Took the boys to Walmart to grocery shop with me tonight. I LOATHE grocery shopping with my boys. It's one of my least-favorite times as a parent. They were running around like the wild-men of Borneo, lying on the floor, hiding in the clothes racks, shouting to each other from different aisles. Miserable. I pretended not to be with them, donning a "who are these kids and why are they following me????" expression. At one point, Quinn asked if we could buy a whole chicken.
Me: "No, I don't think we need a chicken."
Q: "Yes we do! They have a wish bone!"
Me: "Yeah. So."
Q: "You could make a wish!"
Me: "Uhhhhhhhh."
Q: "I know what you'd wish for."
Me: "You do? What?"
Q: "For us to be good boys."
Me: "WOW. You just read my mind. That's amazing."
Q: "Mom, we're good boys sometimes."
Me: "Those times are very few and far between."
Q: "We're just having some fun!" And then he runs away to play hide and seek in the the toilet paper and cleaning supplies.
SIGH. It frustrates me that they KNOW they're being hooligans, and they really just don't care. And nothing I say or do seems to make a hill of beans difference. SIGH.
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