Three-Ring Circus

We went grocery shopping this morning. All I really needed was some milk for the kids. We went to the Fred Meyer down the street since it’s nearby. I picked up a few six-packs of Blue Sky Sodas, grabbed the milk, and then we were on our way out of the store, lickety-split. I went through the U-Scan checkout so I wouldn’t have to wait in line. I do the self-scan at Wal-Mart a lot, and there, as you bag it, you can put it back into the cart. Not so at Freddy’s. The computer will get onto you. “Please place your items back into the bagging area. Please place your items back into the bagging area.”

The computer is lecturing me and the little alarms and swirling red lights are heralding the self-scan supervisor that I am attempting to move my purchases into the basket before they are actually purchased. So in my moment of distraction, as I’m trying to get my stuff back into the bagging area to finish paying for my five little items, Blessings #s 3&4 head through the lane and over to look into the little playground.

For customer convenience, Freddy’s offers a child-care center that is provided free of charge for shoppers. Unfortunately the child-care center doesn’t cater to my shopping needs as it isn’t open at 9am. It’s in operation beginning at 10. So my little monkeys have never gotten to play in there... they just get to gawk.

I watch as they as they look through the Plexiglas walls to eye the toys and the slide and all the other exciting things teasing them on the other side. I look back to the screen that is now telling me to hurry up and finish. “Please scan your rewards card. If you do not have a rewards card, please select method of payment. Please scan your rewards card. If you do not have a rewards card, please select method of payment.” I slide my card. Then I look up to see that my Blessings have moved.

B#4 is looking over the little door and then looking to me. I follow her eyes, and I see B#3. But he is no longer looking through the Plexiglas to the toys; he is on the other side of the Plexiglas on the toys. He is climbing up the little ladder, sliding down the little slide, up, down, up, down. Darting from here to there and everywhere. In those five seconds, I think I saw him try out every available toy. He has even opened up the entertainment center doors to inspect the television and video equipment. He is having a BLAST. This is supermarket heaven for a four-year-old!

Monkey Moma: (from 30 feet away) What are you doing in there? You’re not supposed to be in there. Come out!

The cashier lady is standing smack-dab between me and the playground. “I don’t know how he got in there. The door is locked,” she informs me as she stands there completely frozen and just plain bewildered.

It’s pretty obvious to me. I am a mother to a bunch of climbing monkeys, so if he didn’t go over the counter, which he could have done quite easily, then he certainly went over the door... Especially as the door in miniature-sized… it’s probably only two-and-a-half feet tall.

Mouth agape and saucer-eyed, the said employee looks around helplessly for back-up. So mid-checkout, I leave my basket with the cherub sitting in the seat, my purse on the counter, my wallet flopped open, and my credit card resting precariously on top of it all. I am the perfect victim for theft, identity fraud, kidnappinng... you name it. Fortunately 9am isn’t a popular shopping hour at the local Fred Meyer.

I get close enough to where I can make eye contact with the little turkey and know that he can hear me.

MM: Get. Out. Of. There. Right. Now.
B#3: I can’t get out, Moma!
MM: You got in there; you can get out!

I head back to finish paying, as my unattended basket, unattended wallet, and unattended baby are causing some concern. In this half a minute, between the unattendeds and the computer repetitively reminding me to pay for my items, a fellow shopper has informed another employee that I am M.I.A., and that employee is now hurriedly approaching my checkout lane. As she sees me returning, she leaves with a flustered huff and puff. I pay, throw my bags into the basket, and start towards the Plexiglas playground. Soon the store is buzzing with the obnoxious, clamp-your-hands-over-your-ears sound of a loud alarm.

Apparently able to climb over the door and into the fun zone but unable to climb over the door and out of the fun zone, B#3 has decided to use the door. Not the kiddie-sized door, as that one is obviously locked. No, he used The Door. The door with the sign. You know the one. Yep, the one with the sign that says Emergency Exit Only. Alarm Will Sound. Of course, he didn’t actually leave after opening the door. He just stood there, holding the door open. “I can’t get out, Moma!”

It’s quite the exciting scene now. Saucer Eyes is still standing there in confusion. I’m pulling my kid over the counter and out of the playground. Managers are approaching from different directions to see who has breached security and activated the alarm. Shoppers are staring with curiosity. It’s an all-out circus. I just smile, and we leave, heading out the automatic doors and to our car. As we’re crossing the parking lot, I explain to him that he can’t go in the playground because it’s not open yet and there’s no supervision and it’s against the rules, blah blah blah.

We get in the car, and he turns to B#4.

“Hurry, get your seatbelt on! Go, Moma, go! Let’s get out of here! You drive as fast as you can! What’s that sign say?! How fast can you drive?! Drive that fast, Moma! Go! Before the police come and get me! Go!”

Maybe next time he'll just stand next to me in the checkout line.

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