Um, Meltdown - Aisle Five

Let me preface this post by saying I HATE WAL-MART. I usually avoid it like the plague. And not even because I want to support the little guy, or because I don't agree with their employement practices. I just really hate it there. It's always crowded, messy, and so large and randomly placed that Addison can run and hide in Men's Sportswear while I am picking up a loaf of bread. Which is what she usually does.

But alas, it was shopping day yesterday, and because I needed to get some baby stuff, I decided to go to Wally Walmart instead of Macey's. Whatever.

Well, Addison had the tantrum of all tantrums while there. And I should have known when I went to Wendy's to buy a good-behaviour-ensuring milkshake for Addison and THEY DIDN'T HAVE THEM (Um, just mix up some Frosties and milk you dillweeds.) So I was stupid and got her a Frosty. You see, Addison won't sit in a cart unless she is eating something. So I load her into the cart, hand for the Frosty, and proceed to be showered in chocolate as she digs her spoon so far in that she has to yank it out. After two minutes of this, I tell her the Frosty is all gone, and throw it in the garbage, praying fervently that she will stay in the cart. No such luck. The minute I set her on the floor, she takes off running, thus beginning the super fun part of the trip, where I say "Addison!" so many times I literally am sick of hearing my own voice, and figure everyone in the store must be too. Finally, after an impromptu discipline moment where I notify Addison that she is being naughty and needs to hold onto the cart, I get her under control.

Until she sees the potty. Addison is not potty trained. She has no interest in them. Except that while I am grabbing some baby wipes she sees an obnoxiously pink potty on the shelf. AND MUST HAVE IT. Who am I to deny a girl a potty? I figure if shes that enthusiastic about potties in general, I better buy it for her. I put it in the cart. She screams. And screams. And cries "Princess potty!!!" at me. I bring her to the check out line. She screams at the cashier. The cashier gets so flustered that she puts the box (which is about two feed wide, by the way) on the floor for Addison to see. Big mistake. Addison starts pushing the box out the door, while I am still digging through my purse to pay for everything. I chase her down, finding her in the foyer with her box, stuck on one of those mats near the front doors. At this point I AM DONE. I put the box back in the cart and commence trying to maneuver the cart, by this time bulging with food and weighing roughly 7000 lbs, while holding Addison's hand so she doesn't get run over by a car. She is screaming the whole way back to the car, "Princess Potty!" and I put her in her car seat and buckle her in, finally giving in with a. "Addison! Ask nicely!" Finally she signs "Please." Hiccuping as she realizes she finally gets the potty. I take the box, put it on her lap, and put the groceries in the car. She rides with the box on her lap ALL THE WAY home, where she promptly loses interest in it.

Here she is on the way home. Excuse the puffy face, by this time she had been crying for 30 minutes. Because THAT'S HOW LONG IT TAKES TO CHECK OUT AT WAL-MART.

As of now, the potty is sitting in her bathroom downstairs untouched.