Well, it's not like Food Lion has high class clientel either

I know my children aren't the most well behaved. In fact, they're down right hellions - witness the absolute screaming hysterics when I dropped the younger one off for his very first day at the CDC this morning. (I watched the room on the closed circuit for a while and I'm pretty sure he was planning a break-out. Probably to find Daddy, secure in his knowledge that Daddy will either fix this or buy him a Hot Wheel car. Either one's good enough.) But I expect a certain modicum of behaviour from them. We've got these things called rules. I know, novel idea.

I don't like taking them to the grocery store because they whine and whine and whine until I just want to take the Sponge Bob Cheese Nips from their hands and bop them over the head with 'em. But I don't. 'Cause this is the personal hell I chose for myself. Just kidding! At any rate, that's a personal annoyance. Makes me want to pull my hair out one strand at a time but it doesn't bother the other shoppers. They start throwing fits and every single bit of food they like will be stripped out of the cart, leaving nothing but meat, veggies and my coca-cola. I like to think I'm a fairly middle of the road parent, somewhere between my mother's "What's a curfew?" and my step-mom's "Sure you're 18 but you'll still be home before dark. And I better know where you are until then." But there's still consequences, ya know?

So how? How in God's name do you allow your child to ROLL AROUND ON THE GROUND in the commissary? Seriously? And I don't mean one roll before ya snap "Get your butt up!" I mean I had time to walk past you, observe the little bratimus-maximus , go to the other side of the fucking store, write a goddam text message and get my dog food. And yet when I walked past you again, little precious is still flailing there. Not throwing a fit to get his way, in a Gee-this-is-so-much-fun way. People are veering out of his way, casting dubious looks at mom of the year. All the while you're blissfully picking out meat without saying one fucking word to him! Does it really take so long to pick up seven packs of ground beef and five packs of hotdogs anyways? What, you're gonna play you know how to cook something other than Hamburger Helper? Or are you just hoping that if you ignore the heathen long enough he'll pick another family to go home with?

Here's my Public Service Announcement for the month. Get your child up off the floor! It's fucking dirty down there!