EDITED TO ADD: Hello Moms, Dads and Fellow Humans! I just wanted to give you a heads up in case I can save you some time! If you are here to express your concern for my parenting capabilities and whatever role I may have had in getting the Tiny Carts pulled, please do so in a polite, respectful manner, or your comment will not be approved. Until last week, my blog was a safe place for parents to come and read about how we are all in this together, despite our differing parenting techniques with our different Tiny Humans, so comments shaming parents (myself or other commenters) will not be tolerated.
If you still have time to kill, feel free to swing on by THIS POST to read my thoughts on this blog going viral.
Recently you decided to CHANGE EVERYTHING. You looked at our relationship, and without even ASKING, you brought in a third party. I am horrified. Have I done something wrong? Am I not good enough?
We had such a good thing. It was easy. I showed up, you delivered. Every time. And now… now there is this thing between us. This tiny, red thing, with wheels and a really cute flag that makes it look innocent but it’s actually there (admit it) to warn everyone close that whatever is at the bottom of that flag is bringing DANGER AND PAIN AND STRIFE and that they should run in the opposite direction.
Yes, I am talking about those stupid tiny carts that you introduced.
So, in response, I have decided to start a MOVEMENT. It will be called MASTC. Moms Against Stupid Tiny Carts.
Maybe you haven’t yet realized the severity of your mistake. So let me just break down my most recent trip to Target… er…. I mean…. your store for you.
Going to your store is magical. I am a Mom… in the HotMess category. I don’t just shop at Target. I come to Target to FEEL again. I come to Target to pretend that my day didn’t actually go the way it did, and that I maybe still have some semblance of control of my life, which mostly consists of school runs and a Tiny Human that refuses to poop in the potty. So Target is my JAM. I can come, put the Tiny Human in the cart, grab a coffee and do the Target Stroll. What’s the Target Stroll? It’s that thing that you do where you go in for milk and come out with three carts full of STUFF. It’s very lucrative for you as a company, and I can guarantee that I am not the only one that does it.
So today Tiny Human and I decide to do a late night (read: 6pm) run to your House of Awesome for a razor and a few things for lunch boxes. EASY. I can Target Stroll ALL OVER THAT. It used to be that we could get right into the store, get Tiny Human situated in a cart with a drink and an iPad (NO JUDGING) and it would be smooth sailing. But now, we have to go take a picture with the stupid PokeBall EVERY TIME WE GO, and we get inside and his eyes light up with wonder when he sees a Vehicle of Mass Destruction that is JUST HIS SIZE. I have been shutting that down up until this point, but I figured, hey, it might not be that bad, let’s give it a shot (that’s a decision I can never take back).
So Tiny Human grabs the cart and off we go.
And I will admit. There was 10 whole seconds where I thought that that MIGHT have been the cutest thing I have ever seen. I mean… Good Job, Target, amiright?? Let’s get these future spenders-with-no-impulse-resistence trained early, right?
But it quickly went downhill. Look! The dollar section has never been more unenjoyable. THAT’S at least $15 you COULD HAVE HAD had I not been so busy to GET OUT OF THERE because Tiny Human now has the freedom to just PUT THINGS IN THERE. MADNESS.
Ok. Razor first. We swung around, and after I pulled Tylenol, dish soap and various other things out of his cart, we made it to the razor aisle. By the time I chose mine, he had 16 in his cart, along with about 10 bottles of shaving cream. ABORT ABORT ABORT.
Seeing the demise of this Target Adventure, we quickly skirted to the food section. This is where Tiny Human really starts getting into it. Look! I can push the cart and it just GOES! On its own! And when I do it right where the aisle ends, people can’t see it coming! And listen to that fun noise when other carts hit mine! THIS IS AMAZING.
Target was suddenly becoming HIS happy place. THIS IS NOT RIGHT.
We passed another family. These poor souls had two minions, each with his own cart. KEVIN, they yelled. KEVIN! WATCH OUT! KEVIN COME BACK! I tried to catch their glance to give them that look… you know… the sympathetic Mom look when you see people who are totally losing the battle in public, right there for everyone to see. But I couldn’t catch their glance, because they were so focused on Kevin, who was quickly escaping down the candy aisle, his little flag the only thing you could see. The only thing I can compare it to is that scene in Jurassic Park (I have no idea which one) where the raptors are coming in through the long grass, and all you can see are their tails, but you know it means DOOM IS UPON THEM.
And maybe you think I am exaggerating. But you did not see the LOOKS on the peoples’ faces that were being set upon by your Stupid Tiny Cart army that you are clearly building.
I did my best to finish my shopping as fast as I possibly could, all the while hearing KEEEVVVIIIINNNNN in the background. I thought I was done when we made it to the checkout lane, but Little One was HORRIFIED to find out that he had to take all this cool stuff out that he had accumulated and put it on the belt, which would then SWEEP it away AND HE WOULD NEVER SEE IT AGAIN. EVER. IN HIS WHOLE LIFE.
I did that mothering thing that people refer to the bandaid, where I just dumped it all out REAL QUICK and got the pain over with. I was SO CLOSE to the finish line. I did not even care that I could not do the Target Stroll. I was so over this trip. (That’s like… 3 coffee mugs, 4 $5 movies, and at least one Thomas train that you DID NOT SELL TONIGHT… and possibly a throw pillow.). I could handle a little cry.
But then we had to put the Stupid Tiny Cart away, with all the other Stupid Tiny Carts. Dear Lord. Usually, we ride on out, kid still melting his brain on the iPad, me still sucking the last of the caramel out of the bottom of my really fatty coffee, high-fiving other moms who are on their way IN to do THEIR Target Stroll. Not this time. No… not this time.
All this to say. You need to know your target audience (see what I did there?). Maybe you saw Trader Joe over there, and was all like, Hey! Trader Joe is trendy! And they have tiny carts! We should get tiny carts! But Trader Joes is for moms who have it at least a little together and have gone there with the express intent on feeding their kids something other than cheezits and dry cereal for dinner. And they probably don’t even wear yoga pants while they shop.
But that’s not you, Target. That’s not US. That’s not our Thing. Don’t make it our Thing.
If you would like to make it right, we here at MASTC will accept an immediate removal of the Stupid Tiny Carts, and also would not mind being handed a free Pumpkin Spice Latte upon arrival on our next shopping trip.
Founder of MASTC as well as MACAPCITCA (Moms Against Candy And Pokemon Cards In The Checkout Aisle)
This article originally appeared Laughing Without Limits.