Man Child

Ah, the good old days. Do you remember them? I do. They were the days when I could load Little Man up in his car seat and pop him in and out of the car, balancing the car seat in the crook of my arm. We went a lot of places like this: we lunched, we shopped, we meandered around farmers markets and parks.

And then mobility came.

We still went to the same places, it just required a little focus on timing so that Little Man could strech his legs when he needed to. I didn't meander so much as I chased, but it was still all good.

And then in addition to the mobility came preference, which changed the ball game entirely.

Gone are the days of doing anything, especially shopping, at a leisurely pace. When I go to the grocery store, I go with a list, a map and a plan. And a miniature dump truck in my purse that is just right for zooming along the shelves.

And there's no more slipping into department stores or clothing stores, because suddenly my darling Man Child has decided to voice his masculine opinion about my feminine shopping habits.

The minute I step into a women's clothing department, he begins to wail a high pitched scream that makes the other shoppers assume I'm mudering him. He begins to whine the moment I walk down the cosmetics aisle. And the very sight of a Victoria Secret store is cause enough for a meltdown.

Take him into a Best Buy? He's all grins and giggles. GameStop? It's the happiest place on earth. My Little Man is a true Man Child.