Karma's a Relentless Bit..

The girls want to make these bracelets. They require what looks like key rings on one end, only they are about a quarter the size of a normal key ring. Michaels did not have them so I told the girls we could go to the hardware store. We first stopped at Menards, which is the upscale, foofy version of a hardware store around here, complete with a baby grand piano (and live music on the weekends) smack dab in the middle, next to the conveyor belt escalator thing that locks your cart into place as you move safely up the ramp to the second floor (while your six year old licks the black hand rail on the way up because, well, that's how she rolls...or perhaps because she is hungry from not eating breakfast since I sometimes like to starve her in the morning). 

At any rate, they didn't have what we were looking for so we headed to Home Depot, which is where I like to shop anyway. I like the barebones-warehouse atmosphere with the real, live construction people shopping nearby, the rows of parts and tools and extra high everything, the concrete floors, the orange-ness. It seems more rough and tumble. And people don't notice as much when an occasional scream erupts from a certain cart full of kids because the noise travels straight up and out and on over to construction zone heaven where I am pretty sure they use it as energy for their heavenly power tools. Win-win.

The five of us arrived at Home Depot, and no sooner had I gotten the two little ones strapped into the oversized cart when a nice older gentleman stopped us and asked if the kids would like a balloon.....orange helium filled balloons to be exact. Because they hate us. 

We turned right around and headed out the door. No balloons here Mister Nice Guy!

No, no, that is not what happened. I saw the flicker of excitement in the children's faces and politely accepted the offer, because apparently I am an incredibly slow learner. And that is when I saw Karma's sly little face grinning at me as she tilted her head back to let out her most evil laugh. Within moments, one boy child was hitting the other on the head with his balloon. The second boy child immediately started hitting back, with his fists, but stopped paying attention to his balloon string that got caught under foot and snapped in two. Luckily, I was able to catch the balloon and tie the washer back on but that is when younger girl child decided she should confiscate aforementioned balloons from all the other children. Older girl child saw the opportunity to help and within the time it took us to get from point A (entry) to point B (key rings), the whole cart had imploded and all that was left was the sound of four young children wildly screeching as I stood back in a corner, drinking cocktails from some random flask I found making comments about the nerve of these irresponsible parents allowing such a scene to unfold here in the quiet, calm hardware store. Well, in my head I did that. What really happened was, I quickly found out that Home Depot did not have what we were looking for and so the only part of the trip worth salvaging were the free balloons that were now completely tangled in younger girl child's fist. 

When we got home, she sweetly asked if I would untangle them for her. 

"Not a chance," I said as nicely as possible. And then added, "Good luck with that."