The lovely Mrs. M and I often get together with our boys for playdates. It is getting increasingly difficult to find places to go where the kids can have some fun, but we don't have to physically chase them around too much. Because we are tired and getting too pregnant to run very fast. It's still too soggy to play outside but we still like to get out of the house and enjoy each others company.
Today we decided to meet at Chinook Mall, before the stores actually opened, so the kids could run around a bit and not get into too much trouble....can you sense the impending 'doom'?
First, let me just make it clear that Mrs. M is practically a Southern Belle. Who lives too far North to be considered Southern. She was clearly brought up well, and this is in no way a reflection otherwise. Unlike myself...
Second, Chinook Mall does not like children. There is no play area, shopping carts are not allowed out of the larger stores, and you cannot rent a stroller. We have a very large stroller, which does not fit well into stores.
Soooo...our morning went something like this:
The Bee took off his shoes and a sock on the way there. Upon entering the mall I realize that I put his shoes back on the wrong feet. And The Bug has a big patch of jam on his pants that I missed in the mad dash to get everyone in the car. Looking good so far!
We let the boys explore and wander around a bit, trying to make sure they are all in the same general direction.
We get to the escalator. The Bug and Bee are quite interested. The Bug flops himself on the floor and continues to lie there when I won't let him get on the escalator. A nice older lady asks him if he is cleaning the floor.
We eventually continue our 'walk' with both kids taking turns perfecting their passive-aggressive tactics. And while it is somewhat humorous in recounting, or as one hearing the story later, at the time I was quite tempted to leave the child lying on the floor and just walk away and get myself a muffin.
Instead we head into a store with shopping carts. The kids are actually pretty content to ride around until we discover that we are absolutely not going to get them out of the store. We try anyway. And again. To no avail. We are trapped unless we abandon ship.
We steer the little hooligans (mine) and the much better behaved W to the food court where we manage to scrounge up some high chairs, much to my surprise. Snack time is the usual shenanigan of getting food and drink every which way possible, but relatively successful.
We cut our losses and head home hoping that we've worn them out enough to have a decent afternoon nap. As we ourselves are exhausted.
And of course we always end with the promise to meet again next week. Cuz we're crazy like that...