To my blog regulars, I know that you’ve heard this sort of stuff before. Here as well as in your own life.
But, things just got kicked up a notch.
After picking the girls up from school Friday afternoon: YAY, WE’RE GOING TO McDONALDS!
Me: Well, Girls. No. We’re going to the supermarket. We need a few things.
Girls: Aw-uh (their disappointed voices rise in inflection.)
Me: But, girls, you can’t have everything you want. While supplies last.
Girls: Yay! I want Chips! I want Yogurt! DORITOS!
Me: Ok. But, you have to pick something for dinner. Real food.
Julianna (she’s 9): I want sushi!
Isabella (she’s 6): I want to think about it…
I park and we walk into Ralphs grocery store. (Technically speaking, there is no apostrophe in Ralphs. Not “Ralph’s.” Non possessive. It is Ralphs. iPhone spell-check be-damned. English professor, help me.)
Approaching the sushi counter, unfortunately, it is out of Julianna’s prized “California Roll ($5.99).” They have the “Spicy California Roll ($7.50).” No, please. They have the “Real Crab California Roll ($8.99).” Nope. “Rainbow Roll ($12.50).” The “Lobster Flown in from Maine Today Roll ($75.99).” Noooo!
Me: Sorry, Honey, they don’t have the plain, vanilla, generic, fake tofu-crab California roll that you insist on. We’ll have to find something else.
Here begins the meltdown…
J (and normally she’s the “good” one, proportionally-speaking): If I can’t have my sushi, then I don’t want anything! And, I’m starving! I’ll starve to death!
(She actually said that.)
Me: Well, Sweetie. We’re in a grocery store, full of food. We’ll find something else.
J: No, we won’t! I hate everything here!
Me (as calmly as I can be, but tempers are rising): You realize, that everything we eat comes from this store, right.
J: No! I’m going to starve to death!
Me: Then, we’ll just go home and find something.
J (tears are streaming down her cheeks): No! There’s nothing at home to eat. I’m going to starve to death!
(Her last full meal was three hours ago.)
Me: Honey. We’re in a GODDAMN Grocery Store! They have 25 aisles of EVERY FUCKING THING you could ever eat!
(For the record, that was only the voice in my head. Security was never called.)
Me (actually): Well, Julianna, what do you want?
J: I. Don’t. Know.
Here’s where things heat up.
Me: Well, then I’m ready to leave.
J: Noooooooooo! I’ll. Starve. To. Death.
Yes, people begin looking.
Me: Then, pick something!
J: I don’t know what it is, but I want it!
Me (reasonable-ish): Please calm down, Puppy… What is it? What does it taste like?
J: I don’t know!
Me: You don’t know what it tastes like?! Ok, Does it come in a can? Or a box? Or something I cook? Is it frozen?
J (now, just below a scream): I! Don’t! Know!
Me: So, you don’t know what it tastes like or looks like? What is it?
J: I! Don’t! Know! It didn’t have a picture!
The guy in aisle 7 is smirking. Go to Hell.
So, we begin trudging up the aisles, looking for this mythical, magical Unicorn of food.
Me: Is it soup? Chili? Pizza? I can make spaghetti. Stew? A packet of Fajita flavoring? Light Bulbs? Motor Oil?
Guess what? She can’t find it.
J: I! Don’t! Know!
A hostage no more, I make a break for it.
Me: Honey, I’m done here. All I know, is that my dinner will consist of two items: Mar and Tini. (I didn’t actually say that last bit, just thought it… But, I am done here.)
We head to the cashier. I start dumping the baby carrots and pasta on the conveyor belt. Suddenly, I’m being screamed at.
J: Fine! I’ll have the STUPID pizza!
We roll back, grab the F-ing DiGiornos pizza, then finally check out.
At last, we get home, I throw that crappy pizza in the oven. 23 minutes later: Ding! It’s done. I slice it up. Let it cool. Slap it on a couple plates…
A minute or two to cool… Then,
Julianna: I Hate the cheese! It’s Horrible!!!
Me: STRAIGHT TO HELL FOR YOU!… (I think I actually said, “Straight to BED for you.” A little less emphasis there. But, there isn’t any available audio recording to verify. So, it’s plausibly deniable.)
Me…: Now, Miss Mar and Miss Tini, Have you met? Hang on…
Isabella: I’ve decided. I want her pizza. And, some Doritos.