Y'all Will Vouch For Me, Right?

I have to switch grocery stores for a month or so.

If you've ever been a mom of a two-year-old, you'll understand instantly. If you haven't, just borrow Princess Grace the next time you head to the store - you'll get the picture pretty quickly.
Despite my best efforts to entertain her (i.e. getting the special "car cart" that requires the arm strength of a gorilla to turn, keeping up a constant stream of chatter to her to keep her from getting bored, which only results in people looking at you strangely because they think you're talking to yourself), Princess G decided to entertain herself during this particular shopping excursion by singing. Actually, make that screaming in a singsong voice. When a couple of obviously hearing-impaired folks walked by, smiled and said, "Oh, how cute!" that only served to tick off the princess, who was not trying to be cute, but only annoying enough to make mommy leave the store. She went to Plan B.

Plan B was to unhook the "car cart" seatbelt (for all you smarty-pants out there who see kids running around in stores and wonder why parents don't just buckle them in the carts - we do, then they figure out how to bust out of them. Any [legal] containment ideas now, Einstein?) and hang halfway out of the cart, making it virtually impossible for me to push the cart anywhere without knocking the tiara off the royal offspring's head.

At that point, I decide to engage G in the shopping experience by asking her to put things in the cart for Mommy. She was thrilled to put in a couple of cans of Dora the Explorer soup (Yes, soup. I don't know why they make Dora soup. Don't ask me silly questions.), but was not happy about stopping with only a couple of cans of soup. There are 10 cans on the shelf, Mommy - why wouldn't we want to buy all of them?

At this point we're beginning to move to shriek mode, so I hightail it to the checkout, where again I try to engage Her Royal Highness by asking her to help me put items on the conveyor belt. She's happy to do so, as long as I let her balance precariously with one foot on the door of the "car cart" so she can actually see over the side of the conveyor. Noticing the checkout lady's horrified look (I, in full just-let-me-get-out-of-here-without-a-scene mode, am fine with it because I know the Princess is part monkey), I pull her down from there.

This is where it gets really good. As I try to put the Princess back down into the "car cart" so I can check out, I totally smack her head on the side of the checkout counter. She doesn't cry (this kid is tough) but says "Ow!" and grabs the instantly swelling knot on her head. I look up to see not one, not two, but three checkout ladies looking up from their duties down the line of lanes and giving me that disapproving what-an-irresponsible-mother stare that just makes you feel like a candidate for "America's Most Wanted." At that point, I abandon my attempt to put the Princess in the cart and just carry her (ignoring the screaming coming from my partially torn, but yet still painful, rotator cuff) out to the car.

But we're not done yet. Of course, when faced with getting in her carseat, Princess G goes for the full-on screaming fit - the kind that makes people walk slowly past your car and look at your license plate as if they're memorizing it and talking to the store manager about you ASAP. My only saving grace was that the new car does in fact hold sound in pretty darn well when all the doors are shut. Way to go, Kia - there's a major selling point moms will love, although I hesitate to think how you'd market that particular feature ("The Kia Sportage...comfortable, roomy and able to muffle the screams of up to three shrieking children").

Yes, we finally made it home, and Princess G finally stopped shrieking when she realized I wasn't going to save her from the horrors of her carseat (it did take a couple of miles). But, I think I'll head to a different Schnucks for the next couple of shopping excursions - unless someone tells me they've got an internal database of shrieking children/headbanging moms that they share.

When the grocery store rats me out to DCFS, can I take up a collection for my bail money?