Mall Walking
Last night was another night off work for Ellie. We considered several ways to commemorate her second night of freedom within a week, such as taking the kids to the park and cherishing every moment of their childhoods, but settled on spending another night collecting Vital Supplies. This was a continuation of our last outing, but we squandered this evening at the mall doing everything that we didn’t have time to accomplish during the last excursion.
I dropped Ellie off at one end of the mall, and then parked at the opposite end. This was meant to be a timesaving maneuver as we had business in the mall’s separate nether reaches. She was to drop off her watch for repair at a jeweler, and then trek past boutiques and kiosks to the big-box store where I’d be shopping. Theoretically, her dump and hike adventure would allow her to walk into the store at the same time I entered, letting us quickly find each other. This made sense since I had to park the car, single-handedly unload the stroller and three children, and walk into the store at a toddler’s pace, which is about 200 feet per minute, assuming nothing distracts her along the way, and with those giant red balls of concrete barriers / corporate art positioned in front of the doors, it’s a good bet something will distract her.
After much cajoling of Abbie to walk faster and in the proper direction, I entered the store, but didn’t see Ellie. Apparently helping a customer with a $15 repair job on a $30 watch isn’t a big priority for jewelers, so I had to kill some time. No problem, I could start shopping without her. This would be a good opportunity to practice entering society without having another adult present to help corral the children.
The first item on my list was a vegetable steamer, as in one of those metal things with leaves that fold and drops into a saucepan. Our broke after only five years of almost daily usage, twice daily since Abbie started eating vegetables, cheap piece of junk. After a couple minutes of cycling between watching the merchandise to see if I’m in the right area, watching the walkway to see if I’m about to ram something with the stroller, and watching Abbie to see if I can still see her, I found my steamer. I slipped it under the stroller, feeling vaguely like a shoplifter as I did, but without a shopping cart I didn’t have any other storage options. Even if I did attract security, maybe I could con that person into helping me carrying stuff.
Ellie still hadn’t arrived after I found my one item, and everything else was too big to fit under the stroller, so I had little choice but to wait by the gate for her entrance. I passed the time by shuffling back and forth between the twins, shaking rattles in their faces to keep them placated. Abbie passed the time by ducking in between racks of clothes that are the perfect size for her to disappear into. Eventually she uncovered a giant rubber ball, which she immediately started throwing and chasing. At first I let her play since the store wasn’t crowded and the boys were keeping me busy with their fussing, but I quickly realized a few breakable objects were resting near her path. I figured we’d be in trouble if she broke anything, even though it would clearly be the store’s fault for storing bouncy balls and fragile merchandise so close to each other, and took the ball away before she hurt something, specifically my wallet. This proved difficult since she could pull it off most shelves that I tried dumping it. Eventually I found a tall end cap to dump it on top of, and quickly pulled her away before she could mourn her loss too audibly.
Soon after, Ellie returned. I grabbed a cart, and we hurried through our shopping as the boys, specifically Tory, were growing increasingly fussy. By the time we hit the checkout lane, he was practically screaming, so Ellie sent me to the car with the children while she checked out. I finished loading everyone just as Ellie walked out of the store, which was well timed since Tory was in full meltdown mode. We couldn’t leave yet, though; I had to run into the store to pay for that vegetable steamer I forgot to remove from the stroller.
I dropped Ellie off at one end of the mall, and then parked at the opposite end. This was meant to be a timesaving maneuver as we had business in the mall’s separate nether reaches. She was to drop off her watch for repair at a jeweler, and then trek past boutiques and kiosks to the big-box store where I’d be shopping. Theoretically, her dump and hike adventure would allow her to walk into the store at the same time I entered, letting us quickly find each other. This made sense since I had to park the car, single-handedly unload the stroller and three children, and walk into the store at a toddler’s pace, which is about 200 feet per minute, assuming nothing distracts her along the way, and with those giant red balls of concrete barriers / corporate art positioned in front of the doors, it’s a good bet something will distract her.
After much cajoling of Abbie to walk faster and in the proper direction, I entered the store, but didn’t see Ellie. Apparently helping a customer with a $15 repair job on a $30 watch isn’t a big priority for jewelers, so I had to kill some time. No problem, I could start shopping without her. This would be a good opportunity to practice entering society without having another adult present to help corral the children.
The first item on my list was a vegetable steamer, as in one of those metal things with leaves that fold and drops into a saucepan. Our broke after only five years of almost daily usage, twice daily since Abbie started eating vegetables, cheap piece of junk. After a couple minutes of cycling between watching the merchandise to see if I’m in the right area, watching the walkway to see if I’m about to ram something with the stroller, and watching Abbie to see if I can still see her, I found my steamer. I slipped it under the stroller, feeling vaguely like a shoplifter as I did, but without a shopping cart I didn’t have any other storage options. Even if I did attract security, maybe I could con that person into helping me carrying stuff.
Ellie still hadn’t arrived after I found my one item, and everything else was too big to fit under the stroller, so I had little choice but to wait by the gate for her entrance. I passed the time by shuffling back and forth between the twins, shaking rattles in their faces to keep them placated. Abbie passed the time by ducking in between racks of clothes that are the perfect size for her to disappear into. Eventually she uncovered a giant rubber ball, which she immediately started throwing and chasing. At first I let her play since the store wasn’t crowded and the boys were keeping me busy with their fussing, but I quickly realized a few breakable objects were resting near her path. I figured we’d be in trouble if she broke anything, even though it would clearly be the store’s fault for storing bouncy balls and fragile merchandise so close to each other, and took the ball away before she hurt something, specifically my wallet. This proved difficult since she could pull it off most shelves that I tried dumping it. Eventually I found a tall end cap to dump it on top of, and quickly pulled her away before she could mourn her loss too audibly.
Soon after, Ellie returned. I grabbed a cart, and we hurried through our shopping as the boys, specifically Tory, were growing increasingly fussy. By the time we hit the checkout lane, he was practically screaming, so Ellie sent me to the car with the children while she checked out. I finished loading everyone just as Ellie walked out of the store, which was well timed since Tory was in full meltdown mode. We couldn’t leave yet, though; I had to run into the store to pay for that vegetable steamer I forgot to remove from the stroller.
posted by Matt at
11:45 PM
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