My little one has quiet the temper. Actually he has THE temper.
I really don't know who this child is.
He is not mine.
And I do not claim him when we go out.
Nu-huh.
I don't know who he is. He's not mine.
I keep telling myself (it soothes me) denial is one hell of a mind trick, meanwhile my little monster is calling me mommy every step of the way.
Totally embarrassed by my son actions, I picked him up and put him back in the cart. That triggered an even more dramatic scene he had to present (I should really put him into acting school). He continued to act like a bloody fool, hooting and hollering all through the aisles. I walk on by the innocent bystanders who have to witness this tragic event with a weak and weary smile.