The other day after picking Max up from school I announced that we needed to head to Target. Max immediately began to protest, saying, "But Moooooom, we always go to Target. Why do we go there so much?" Truthfully, the kid had a point. I love Target. I mean really, really love Target. I could wander the aisles for hours were it not for my band of rag-tag boys dragging behind me. When it's raining and there are still a number of hours before Mark gets home, a common phrase in my house is, "Hey, I have an idea. Let's go to Target!" So I get it. My boy simply doesn't share my same enthusiasm for this discount emporium of dreams (okay, maybe I love it a little too much), especially if he knows we're not going to be purchasing any toys.
On this particular trip I needed to get Gus some boots. He was heading to a pumpkin patch the next day with his preschool and I had accidentally left his rain boots outside in the rain. (Yes, I do see the irony, thank you.) As we were walking through the store, Gus was lagging behind, curiously examining every kitchen gadget, linen and small appliance. It was driving Max completely insane.
Finally Max calls out, "Gus! Hurry up or you are going to be disciplined when we get home!" (hmm...do you think they've heard that before?)
"No he's not," I said to Max, trying to stifle my laughter looking at my little 6 year old acting so parental.
Max shrugged his shoulders, gave a big sigh and muttered, "Well, he would in my world."
I can just imagine Max laying in bed at night, dreaming up all the things he'd change if he had a world of his own. No pesky brothers messing with his things, no green veggies and no more boring trips to Target would definitely top the list, I'm sure.