A little game of "What would you do?"

Please imagine for one moment that you are at your nearest Target establishment. If you have never been to said place or have no idea what I’m talking about then no wonder a deep sadness harbors in your soul. Me thinkest a visit to the red bullseye would do wonders for your outlook on life.
But I digress. Back to imagining! Now imagine that while you peruse the aisles of wonderfulness, you also try to discern needs from wants. Paper towels vs. a serving platter. Serving platter it is! Batteries vs. the cutest pillow known to woman. Fine. Batteries. Then you decide you might as well be crazy while you still have the gumption, so you go back and pick up that enormous pack of paper towels. It makes you feel a little mischievous, just throwing caution and money to wind. But paper towels are your weakness. Besides they’ll look great sitting next to that serving platter.

Then imagine that in the midst of all this pleasantness, you plum forgot about the rest of your family who is waiting for you over in the toy department or quite possibly over by the bicycles. In this particular imagination your family consists of a husband and two smallish, youngish boys. Just go with it.

You scoot your cute little butt across the store searching for your desperados. You finally find them looking at the baseball mitts. It’s hard not to find it all so endearing, even though none of those mitts are small enough to fit your little boy’s hand. Someday son. Someday. Then your oldest son (let’s say he’s between the ages of three and . . . three) throws a ball down the aisle, and you wonder if the Husband allowed such behavior while you were away. You notify the superstars that it’s time to go.

Your oldest son takes this as his cue to jet down the main aisle, oblivious to oncoming carts and people and embarrassment. A near collision ensues and your son would have been at fault. Insurance information would need to have been exchanged. Luckily though, no damage was done. Just a little loss of your parental pride.

You decide this should be a teaching moment so you kneel down and look your little guy straight in the eyes, and tell him with absolute certainty that he is not allowed to run in one of the most sacred, valuable places on Earth. Getting kicked out would surely be the end of days. You also make sure to voice concern over his own safety and how you wouldn’t want him to get hurt and all.

You think your words are soaking deep into his brain. You see his eyes twinkle with understanding. Then he smiles. Then he looks you in the eyes. Then he head butts you. Right in your inherited large pointy nose. Just go with it

What do you do then dear reader? This is your imagination after all. What do you do now that your head is pounding, and your nose is bleeding a little bit, all because of the creature standing before you?

Well let me tell you what you should hypothetically do (what I would most assuredly do) if such a thing ever actually happened (as if!). First you would grab that little boy, that cute offspring of yours, by the collar of his coat. Then you pull him the couple of feet necessary to hand him off to his father lest you lose your cool. You tell them to just go far far away. Then you walk in the opposite direction. This is crucial so you avoid accidentally seeing the culprit again too soon. You find a tissue in your purse and dab at your nose. You wonder if you could get a copy of the security tape if need be.

Then you march yourself straight over to the accessories department and pick yourself out a nice necklace. You deserve it. You were just head butted in public . . . by your own son. After making your purchase, you feel composed enough to meet your family out in the car where you then inform your cranium-of-steel son that he is going straight to bed when you get home. And you are determined to keep your word, even though all hell is now breaking lose in the backseat.

You imagine happier times, and try to look on the bright side. At least he wasn't a sixteen year-old head butter.
Then you think maybe he should try soccer instead of baseball.


Kristina P. said...

So, karate is not in his future?

The redhead said...

Maybe. It might teach him to harness his skills.

Hayley said...

My imagination is full of scenarios just like that...how did you know?! Only my scenarios typically involve 4 imagined boys, say between the ages of 7 3/4 and 5 months.

Rachel said...

HA! I am so glad you could look on the bright side! I too am happy it wasn't a 16 year old head!! :)

The redhead said...

Hayley-This is why I don't get out much. And I don't know how you can even imagine leaving the house :)

Rachel-Oh yes. I hear 16 year old boys have very hard noggins.

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