Thought you'd enjoy at least one story about CAMINATOR!
off we trot to Kmart all three of us.
School supplies and two gallons of milk, later, we are marching toward Georgia, or at least the cashier with the spoils of war.....
When wait? What is that wafting on the breeze? Donuts? And where is Cami?
Like a leming to the sea, that Cami, steadfastly heading to the bakery with no thought of my barking at her. Wait, is she stopping? No, she's slowing down to gaze at the Barbie aisle. It's pink, it's mezmerizing, she's helpless.
When I finally found her, she's got an armful of those dreadful BRATZ dolls and is looking at me angelically.
No. No and no. Absolutely not. You wandered off, wouldn't come back, and those are dreadful dolls and no. You ain't gettin' them.
When, Linda Blair move the hell over, it's Cami-time.
Faster than you can blink she turns mutinous. Drops to the floor, rolls around. I laugh. She kicks me in the shin. I stop laughing. She shouts, "you ain't the boss of me" doing the chicken neck and flinging her pint sized 'do all around.
I pluck her pink clad azz up, stand up, smile at the crowd gathered, LEAVE the area. Go to Customer Service, hand over my cart and my visa, and bear the screaming wenchlet out to the car with Katie and Ian following at a respectful, if fearful distance. Not fearful of me, but Cami was spitting at everything she could reach. (I had to wash my hair)
By the time I get her strapped in, here comes the store manager, father of 3 himself. He has me sign, helps me unload the supplies and wishes me God speed.
HAH!
Little bugger. She doesn't know what I've been through. I will ground her azz to her room so hard, she'll need dirt and water to grow.
off we trot to Kmart all three of us.
School supplies and two gallons of milk, later, we are marching toward Georgia, or at least the cashier with the spoils of war.....
When wait? What is that wafting on the breeze? Donuts? And where is Cami?
Like a leming to the sea, that Cami, steadfastly heading to the bakery with no thought of my barking at her. Wait, is she stopping? No, she's slowing down to gaze at the Barbie aisle. It's pink, it's mezmerizing, she's helpless.
When I finally found her, she's got an armful of those dreadful BRATZ dolls and is looking at me angelically.
No. No and no. Absolutely not. You wandered off, wouldn't come back, and those are dreadful dolls and no. You ain't gettin' them.
When, Linda Blair move the hell over, it's Cami-time.
Faster than you can blink she turns mutinous. Drops to the floor, rolls around. I laugh. She kicks me in the shin. I stop laughing. She shouts, "you ain't the boss of me" doing the chicken neck and flinging her pint sized 'do all around.
I pluck her pink clad azz up, stand up, smile at the crowd gathered, LEAVE the area. Go to Customer Service, hand over my cart and my visa, and bear the screaming wenchlet out to the car with Katie and Ian following at a respectful, if fearful distance. Not fearful of me, but Cami was spitting at everything she could reach. (I had to wash my hair)
By the time I get her strapped in, here comes the store manager, father of 3 himself. He has me sign, helps me unload the supplies and wishes me God speed.
HAH!
Little bugger. She doesn't know what I've been through. I will ground her azz to her room so hard, she'll need dirt and water to grow.
Comments
And good on you for holding the line!!!