As a mother of three energetic boys, I often find myself reflecting on the wildness of their behavior and how it sometimes resembles that of our primate ancestors. My oldest, whom I affectionately call “Little Corn,” is now 9 years old, and he’s growing up fast—tall enough that I can slip my feet into his flip-flops to grab the mail. You’d think having a nearly pre-teen would make shopping trips a bit smoother, but alas, the sight of that big red Target sign seems to ignite a primal chaos in all of them.
Today, I embarked on an “I can’t delay this any longer” shopping mission at Target after school. My list was simple: Christmas shirts for Little Corn and my middle son, some toilet paper, paper towels, and hand soap. Easy, right?
Wrong. One hour and twenty minutes later, we finally made our way out the automatic doors. My middle son had somehow acquired a Santa hat that I had apparently purchased, and my youngest was sprawled out on the cart, dragging his hands along the ground as I waddled out, looking like a cowgirl trying to maintain some semblance of dignity.
Our shopping adventure kicked off with me chasing my youngest down the aisles, desperately hissing his name in an attempt to rein him in. Why was he running? Because he was chasing his middle brother, who thought it was the perfect time to test his galloping speed in a store full of startled shoppers. I had originally tried to keep my toddler in the cart, but I reached my breaking point with the whining and ultimately let him out—threatening his iPad, his free cookie from the bakery, and even his very existence if he didn’t stay close. Spoiler alert: he didn’t stay close.
While I struggled to manage my trio, Little Corn attempted to play the role of the responsible older sibling, reprimanding his younger brothers. While I appreciated his heartfelt effort, it was awkward to hear a fourth-grader shout, “You’re both going to be taken and sold into a circus!” across the store. Yes, I’ve warned him about the dangers out there, but really, that’s not the kind of language you want ringing in a public space!
Things escalated when my toddler grabbed a bottle of Febreze off a shelf, insisting it was a necessary purchase, and my other two boys erupted into a full-blown argument over who would get to load our items onto the checkout conveyor belt. At that moment, I wished I could just tie them up and stash them in the freezer next to the organic green beans.
This whole experience reminded me of that time I watched a mother orangutan at the zoo, calmly nursing her baby while her other child wreaked havoc, tossing lettuce around. She simply backhanded him, sending him tumbling down a hill. After this shopping trip, I completely understood her plight.
I must admit, I suspect cough syrup may have played a role in the chaos. My middle son had been on the stuff for a couple of days, and I wouldn’t be surprised if Little Corn had a sip too. I get it—the syrup is sweet, and it offers a magical relief from the endless coughs that had plagued us. Lesson learned, right?
But what can you do? Shopping is a necessity, and you can’t leave kids in hot cars. Sure, I could consider online shopping, but let’s be real; that requires actual planning! Next time, I might just wean them off the Robitussin before we hit the store. Or perhaps I’ll just join the zoo myself.
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In summary, a simple trip to Target turned into a chaotic adventure that not only tested my patience but also reminded me of our primal roots. As I navigate motherhood, I find that embracing the madness is part of the journey, and perhaps one day I’ll look back on these frantic outings with a smile.