Tender Moments in Target

I wrote this blogpost a couple months ago but never finished it. I glanced at it and figured I should share this with you. If nothing else, print it out for Dax's baby book. So he will know how awesome his childhood was.

Tender Moment in Target #1:

Looking back exactly 2 months ago.

As we head back to our vehicle after our shopping trip, it begins to lightly sprinkle. Thor silently puts his hand over baby brother's head as if to shield it from the rain. Pretty sweet for a 3 year old, don't you think?

He held it there until we got to the car. I couldn't tell if he was trying to stabilize him from the bumpy-parking lot ride or if he just didn't want him to feel the raindrops. Or perhaps a sweet combination.

I almost cried, it was so sweet.

I didn't think he'd continue to hold his hand there long enough for me to snap a picture with my phone, but bless his little heart. He did.

Tender Moment in Target #2:

Fast forward 2 months. This trip to Target was a little bit more frazzled. A bit more rushed. A bit more chaotic. A bit less-cooperative on the parts of the little blonde helpers.

Thor and Dax are in the same position as pictured here, again.

Only now, Dax and Thor are playing with each other's hands. Thor is pushing and tugging, laughing and just generally being a crazy 3 year old.

Maycee is floundering about in the back of the cart. Trying to open consumables, throw things out, or just generally be a little stinker. Needless to say, it is not a great shopping trip and I'm thinking of my exit plan.

But then I see the brushes. I really needed a comb. I think mine got thrown away by one of the aforementioned crazies.

So I'm looking at combs for 2.3 seconds. Then I hear a "plop." Or maybe it was a "thud."

Basically, what I'm trying to say is this: Dax fell out of the cart. Onto the floor. In Target. Oh, yes. I was now that mom.

I scooped him up and nervously looked behind me. And wouldn't you know it, there was another lady in the brush isle. Seriously? Come on!

 So I did what any mature adult would do. I picked my baby off the floor and got the heck out of that store. After paying for my items, of course. Which didn't include a comb. (Come to think of it, I still don't have a comb.)