excuse my circus...

I hate shopping with four kids. The biggest basket I can find (with the big plastic bus on the front) will seat three of them. Inevitably, there's some lady with a five-year-old walking next to the basket holding one jug of milk, and she has the only one in the store. I no longer shoot daggers at those women. I just let my monkeys jump on her basket and say in my syrupy sweet voice, "Oh, sorry, I couldn't find a big basket like your big empty basket there, so my kids are going nuts. Excuse my circus - coming through."

So I head to the store, list in hand, with four kids in tow. The Bear is in charge of the list and - miracle of miracles - I got the big basket! No running down the aisles! No knocking boxes onto the floor! No hanging off the side of the cart! Usually I have to re-arrange seating because of hitting and squishing and touching, but all is remarkably quiet on that front. I breeze through the store halfway done in record time when I notice the dialogue. So I pretend to look at the oatmeal and really pay attention to their words.

My Princess, not yet four years old, is hanging out of the plastic bus (not really yelling because that would have gotten my attention much sooner), "Mayday-mayday! Cease fire! There are children aboard! I repeat, cease fire! Abort abort abort abort!!!!"

The elderly people who were looking at Corn Flakes are now looking at me like I'm insane. The boys are repeating their baby sister's litany, punctuated with whistling bombs and close-range shrapnel. I only have the frozen food left. We need to get out of this store. Now.

There are just some things you can't make up.