After walking the aisles and meeting my 10,000 step goal, I decide to finally sit - in an open lower shelf where there used to be a Big Wheel for sale. My son was shopping in the row in front of me. Then the chaos started to build.
With names like Fisher and Bean, children and parents began to buzz about. Crying. "I want...!" And "Oooo Mommy!" For a moment it was hard to tell who belonged to who. Stealthfully, I sized 'em up, made mental judgements about parenting styles and watched the drama unfold.
Like clucking hens, four teen girls debated about the features and benefits versus the cost before buying water guns for $25. Flip flops slapping, I watched as they strutted their stuff out of sight, planning some sort of ambush.
Just as that show ended, a boy that was about seven sulked down the row. Whining. Hyperventilating. Following dad with heavy feet, "It's not fair!" he wailed. Big sister reached out to comfort him, patting his head in an empathetic yet condescending way. Dad says something to the kids but that just ramps up the drama. "It's not fair! Sister gets something and I don't!" In a useless attempt to provide logic, sister responds with the obligatory, "We offered you something and you didn't want it." Then the boy says something so spoiled, "Daddy, I don't want to get a Nerf gun!" Oh. My. God!
Another boy about the same age runs up to a display of some sort of display of Legos. This time I'm watching the mom and the little sister (about four) who are in the next aisle over looking at bins of footballs, soccer balls, and balls with princesses and Dora images covering the surface. The boy announces, "Holy crap! This looks purely rare!" Mom and daughter continue to shop. Just in case the mom didn't hear him the first time, the boy repeats, "Holy crap! This IS purely rare!" The mom's response made me snicker, "You're supposed to be helping me find stuff for ..." as she takes him by the hand and guides him back to being mindful of the purpose of their time in the toy section. I was thinking about how excited that boy was and enjoying how just pure his excitement was and then...
The Nerf gun kid wails and reminds me of the flip side of pure emotion with a crescendo of whining. As the dad and sister walk away to go to the grocery section, the little brat follows. They left but I can still hear his protest.
Stage left, enter a new family. A three year old baby girl in the shopping cart, mom pushing, dad walking about five paces behind, and a five year old boy about twenty feet behind them bringing up the rear. Proudly, he is wearing a shiny Ferrari red baseball helmet while he perfects his swagger. The baby is waving to me. She's probably never seen a grown woman sitting on a shelf in Target. I smile warmly and blow the baby a kiss.
Instead of just being an observer, I am forced to renter my real life as my son finally discovers me: "Mommy? You've been here the whole entire time?" He has a remote control helicopter in his hands as he sits next to me on the shelf and justifies his potential purchase, "I want this 'cause my other one has a broken wing." I nod and purse my lips.
All quiet now. It's amazing how the flurry of activity just vanished. But that was just a lull between waves. Like some weird arty film short, a girl comes from the bedding section behind me, down the Lego aisle, bouncing an enormous purple ball and then disappears into the electronics section.
Then, I see a lady I used to teach with ages ago. I slink deeper into my shelf and look down to avoid her gaze. Wondering where she is teaching now and hoping she doesn't recognize me...I've forgotten her name. She's talking on the phone looking at toys saying, "Tomorrow I'm going to do my unemployment stuff." Well, there's the answer to that question. I guess she doesn't work for the school system any more.
Then, I hear the familiar "family whistle" and echo back to let my husband know where I am. I love my bubble. I love my life. He extends his hand to help me up. I take it and know that I've just been rescued by my knight in shining armor.
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