The writing on the legs.

You mothers out there know that going to the grocery store with multiple children is no easy task.  Well today I had a take-the-cake type of grocery store experience that ended with a special little lesson from the Biscuit Boy, James.

I had a very small window today where the grocery shopping had to be done before the kids would lose it with the grumps from delayed napping.  The boys and I had met up with Dad for a lunch date, after which I was planning on heading to Winco.  On the way to the store I could smell the hint of mustard and knew Charlie would need a diaper change before heading in.  Low and behold, it was a blowout.  So I dealt with that as best I could, finally lugging the kiddos into the store with a mess of a nasty diaper in one hand.  At one point a woman did a double take at the site of me—overflowing poopy diap in one hand, baby in the other, toddler hanging off my leg—all I could say was, “Yeah, you’re seeing what you’re seeing….”  It was real, people.

After finally disposing of the diaper, we headed in to the store and found ourselves in the baby food isle when I smelled it.  It wasn’t mustard.  It was straight up toddler duty.  Yes, James had loaded his diaper, as well.  And everybody knows that toddler duty smells way worse that baby duty.  I was frazzled but had to get the grocery shopping done!  It was the only time I could do it, and Charlie was quickly starting to lose his cool.  So I simply avoided every single shopper in the store, going out of my way to spare them of any nostril assault.

Meanwhile, Charlie starts crying and James is throwing cauliflower and I couldn’t take it anymore.  So we head to the check out, get all the groceries scanned and bagged, hand the teller my check (I’m old school) when I realize I left my ID in the car.  So out to the car I went, sans groceries, with a poopy kid and a crying kid, to get the ID so I could go back in the store and secure the groceries.  I decided to change James’ diaper then (no easy task!!) and put the kiddos in their car seats and drive up to the store door and park.  This master plan would make things a tad easier on me by leaving the kids in the car for the 3 minutes it would take me to run in, show my ID, and zip back out to the car with the goods.  So off I buzzed, faster than lighting, making it back out to the car in less than two minutes.

I loaded the groceries and hopped in the drivers seat, looking back at the boys to make sure they were good to go.  It was then that I saw that within those 2 minutes that I was absent, James had found a pen and colored all over his legs, arms, hands, clothes and car seat.  I was already riding on my last nerve and that pushed me over the edge.  James is a smart kid and we have told him only about a bajillion times that he can only color on paper.  I keep thinking he understands and just choses to disobey and color on walls and furniture anyway, so this time I pretty much lost it.  I began yelling at him, of which I am not proud.

“James! You KNOW you are not supposed to color on anything but paper!”

“You know that coloring on your skin and your chair is NAUGHTY!”

“I HAVE to give you a sad consequence now!”

Charlie was crying all over again, and James’ eyes got big and his lower lip emerged.  I haven’t really yelled at him like that before, and I could tell it was scaring him a little.  We started driving off, steam still squirting out of my ears, when all the sudden I hear a sweet, meek little voice coming from the back seat.


“Yes, James.”

“I forgive you.”



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