I came home early from work on Sunday and suggested to Mallie Bee that we get that Target shopping done that we’d been talking about. She was surprised by my early arrival as she was still in her jammies. I hustled her along. Let’s go. C’mon. You don’t need to look cute……….we’re only going to Target.
By the time we got there she was surly and just wanted to get the essentials and get out of there.
WHAT???????????????
It’s Target. We don’t rush Target.
I’ve tried many strategies in dealing with pissed-off daughters, but the one I like best is to go all June Cleaver on them. Push the cart, point out the cute dish towels, oh-will-you-look-at-that-baby, do you need some shampoo, let’s get some of those granola bars you like. This throws them off their game. Their moody anger game.
We got to the clothes and she wanted no part of it. Finally I said, “What is wrong with you? Why are you so mad? We’re at Target.”
“I don’t feel good. I have a headache.”
Oh geez. Oh no. Are you achy? Do you have a fever? Here let me feel. Are you getting the flu? You are, aren’t you? What about the friends you were with the other day? Have they had the flu? When you went to the movie were any of them coughing? Were their germy, plagued hands in your popcorn? Oh we have to leave. Let’s go. You’re getting the flu. Oh geez, you’re getting the flu which means in a couple of days I’ll be getting the flu. Oh dear God. It’s the start of the flu. I’ll miss work for a few days which won’t be the worst thing that ever happened to me, but it’s the aches and chills that I hate. And your dad? Oh, you’re dad never thinks I’m really sick. Grandma was like that, too. If you said you couldn’t go to school because you were sick she’d make you stay in your bed the whole damn day. Then you’d get up and be all dizzy from laying flat for eight hours. You don’t feel like you’re going to throw up, do you? Not that, Mal. It can’t be that. Cuz, you know how I am with that. Can’t hear it, can’t know about it, can’t have it in the house. How did the flu move so fast from Boston to Kansas? It must have come on a plane. Did any of your friends fly home from school? You don’t have to name names. Was it Beth? It was Beth, wasn’t it? Did I tell you we saw her parents the other day? And her mom was like, “Now Mallory is going in-state, right?” Like they’re so much better than us with the out-of-state tuition. And her husband just stands there with that goofy grin on his face. You know why? She never lets him talk. What? No I do not do that. Do you need a Motrin? You know I always carry them. That and Immodium. If I ever get kidnapped and leave my purse behind call 9-1-1- and then take a Motrin. Right away. Or Immodium. It’s in the zippered part with my lipstck. I should keep Immodium in my pockets because if I ever got kidnapped I’d crap my pants. Are you feeling crampy? That’s when you take the Immodium. At first cramp. Here, take one anyway.
“Geez, Mom. Calm down. It’s a sinus headache.”
Are you sure?
“Yes.”
O.k., well I have to go look at the workout stuff cuz I can’t get motivated to work out until I have cute work out clothes so I’ll meet you back here in five minutes.
When I returned she was M.I.A. and after searching for her through the Mossimo, Converse and Merona with no luck, she emerged pink and rosy from the dressing room.
Target.
The Z-pack for everything.
