It’s 4:30pm and I felt the need to get out of the house. Mo had been visiting Playhouse Disney on the computer, Co was crawling around getting this, that and the other thing. I was “ret ta go’ and how. So, I packed up all our sundries and just needed to get the little dickens’ into the car. I also needed a way to get Mo off of the computer, into some clothes other than her ballet outfit and into the car so we could go to Target. Priorities, I know. Dinner, schminner. We have to go to Target!! Short of using a crowbar or pulling the plug, I can’t pull her off the computer. I employ the old standby — the egg timer countdown. When the buzzer buzzes, that’s it. All done with Mickey Mouse, no tantrums, no tears, all Target. But here’s the thing — she doesn’t want to go! What?!
I’m stunned that she doesn’t want to go to Target! Who’s child is this? Target is our thing! It’s like the McDonald’s Playplace for adults AND kids. She’s not having it and I’m grasping at straws to figure out how, without manhandling her, the car, to get her to co-operate sans total toddler meltdown. Inspiration strikes in the form of a total win-win on so many levels.
I tell her that if we get ready and go to Target, not only can she keep on her ballet costume, complete with ballet slippers and fairy wings we can have Chinese food for dinner. She has a penchant for chicken and broccoli that is only rivaled for her desire to a) watch the Backyardigans, b) doing “arts & craps” and c) spend the afternoons swinging on the swings at the park. You can see the light bulb go on as she comprehends what I’m saying. And she embraces the idea so totally. As she turns a series of pirouettes to the front door, my dear sweet Mo says, “I’m going to behave right now. Target here we come!”