It was completely by accident and I feel really bad about it.
You know how much Worm loves his popcorn chicken (incidentally he has started calling it HOT instead of YUM, I guess because I always say “Its hot” when I give it to him, makes sense to me).
Anyway, we were at Wal-Mart at 8:30 this morning and I thought I could run in and get a new trash can without incident. Who am I kidding?
Because I went in on the non-food side, I was able to pick out a trash can without any Worm interference. So I head straight for the register and then it hits him.
No, baby. Lets just get a snack at home. I can’t really see over this trash can.
Hey, here are some raisins. You love raisins! Crap. Sorry old lady, I couldn’t see you around my giant trash can.
Juice? Do you want your juice? Oops, kind of nicked that display, hope nothing fell.
HOT! HOT! HOT!
Fine. Let me walk all the way across the store while leaning awkwardly at the waist so I don’t injure anyone.
We head for the deli. We are waiting in line behind a guy ordering six individually packaged slices of pizza. I start to wonder, why kind of freak is ordering pizza at 8:30 a.m., then I remember what I am ordering and tell myself to shut up.
Incidentally there was a professional photography crew right by the deli in the prepared foods section. They were photographing an employee and a lady who was dressed too nicely for Wal-Mart. They were holding opposite sides of a meat tray and pretending to talk about it. Strange, but at least it kept Worm entertained.
Once we have the hot in hand, I figure we might as well get some other stuff. Bad idea. The trash can blind spot plus popcorn chicken trail made me very anxious. By the time we were at the register I was pretty much done with all activity outside my home for the day.
We made it through the parking lot safely. No thanks to the Best Buy drivers who were cruising the Wal-Mart lot today. As I am lifting Worm out of the cart I realize that I forgot to have the cashier scan his popcorn chicken.
I debated going back in, but I just didn’t have it in me.
Is there a special spot in hell for neurotic mommies who knowingly steal processed chicken snacks?