There's no such thing as a quick errand

My mission: go to Barnes & Noble and purchase some flash cards for the G-man.

Expected time of said mission: 10 minutes

Actual time of mission: 1 hour, 13 minutes

That wouldn't be unusual if it was just me. After all, time to spend in a bookstore is one of life's delights. Time spent there with a toddler is one of Dante's circles of hell.

Ok, ok, it didn't have to be. The main error, the focal point of my entire problem, my achilles heel: I didn't bring a stroller. Why would I? Sure, we might have to park a block or two away but he can walk. I have in my mind that the cards are on the first floor, somewhat near the register. In and out in a few fluid motions.

Ah universe, you always have a few tricks up your sleeve.

For starters, I quickly found out that Can walk and Will walk are two entirely separate notions. He demanded I carry him. Kind of good b/c there was traffic but I think a strong grip on his hand could have handled it. To make it worse, I had to bring his winter coat. It was too cold to go even a short distance outside without it. At least, that's what the DCFS would have said. Both of our coats are kind of slippery and while he wanted to be held, he did not want to be still. With diaper bag and baby both slipping from my shoulder, we made it inside.

Hot! It's hot in here! Shed the jackets. Keep the bag. Keep the kid. Uh, no wait, there's not enough arm space for all of that. Lose the kid, he's ready to walk now. Make that run. Oh dear, I forgot how many things there are within his reach. Leaving a trail of destruction, he examines calendars, opens books, removes an entire section of greeting cards and collects treasures to take around with him. Frantically scurrying behind, I try to simultaneously keep a close eye on him, clean up the mess and look for the damn flash cards. If I can just find them, we are good to go. 

Scratch that. I can't do it all at once. Taking even one eye off of him to find the cards is asking for trouble. Finally scoop him up and ask the information desk where they are. Coats are sliding, bag is getting heavier, G-man may be upside down. Oh, I should ask the kids section on the third floor. The third floor?! Are you kidding me? I understand exiling us, but you should just put some sort of transport tube in the doorway to effortlessly suck us up there immediately upon entering. 

Haul everyone/everything to the escalator. G-man is intrigued and holds fairly still in my arms. We reach the top and nirvana, the children's area! He instantly spies a display of tractor and train books. Pages are flying but he's in one spot by my foot and I can resume my neck-craning to find the best spot to locate the flash cards.

Freakin' impossible. Thankfully, an employee sees my distress and lets me know where to find what I need. Great, but how to get him away from the books he's already so into? Easy, she says, there's a train table right near the flash card shelf. With a too-high voice and sugary promises of train ecstasy, I manage to get him within sight of the table. Smiles for all. He takes the bait, the cards are literally right next to the play area and divine luck has placed a chair there for me to sit in. 

Coats fall to the floor. Bag is flung. Soon-to-be-ours flash cards are in my lap. G-man is enthralled with the train set.

We'll just pass some time here. After all, he deserves a little fun and we have nothing like this at home. A few minutes and we'll be out the door.

A few minutes more. He's really happy.

And more...I'm comfy.

And more...

Uh, we really have to go now. Lunch time and all. Surely if I explain that he got a lot of play time and we are going home, he'll just come along. 

Not gonna' happen. Major meltdown. Worst mama in the world for tearing him away from the set. No wonder we are on the third floor. Screams of no and toy-time tears. I have to peel him off and lift him out. But uh, now I have coats in hand, diaper bag, whirling dervish toddler and the boxes of flash cards to carry. Did not think this through.

As fast as my harried self can travel, we make it down the escalators and to the...line at the register. I can't hold it all any longer. He's down. He's off. He's dismantling a halloween display.

It's finally our turn and I approach with the last bit of patience I have. I'll need it as I have to figure out how to complete the transaction while he takes off the coat I just put on, they ask for my gift card, another card for the difference and my ID. Do I want to join their club? Do I look like I want to do anything besides get the hell out of there?

Time to repeat the sherpa impression back to the car. Don't even think about putting up a fight on the car seat. We're outta' here buster.

Mission accomplished.

And really, he LOVES the flash cards. Totally worth it.