Slow Down, Sister

The other day I found myself at my second home.

Target.

My sweet five-year old daughter, Kate was accompanying me and within five minutes, she knew that her lunatic, crazy mother was on the scene.

It's no joke.  I long to be one of those ladies that peruses the aisles reading labels, checking out the sales, enjoying the colorful displays, trying things on.

But the truth is that most of the time, my jaunt into the Red Target land of glory is an on-the-fly, "Aw fuck, I forgot the fill in the blank," and I've got a whopping 20 minutes to get that shit and be back in the car, on the road, definitively late for wherever I'm supposed to be.

My daughter is the antithesis of me.  That girl lives in the moment.  She understands what it means to appreciate the aesthetic and to take time to go through those fucking dollar bins that they strategically place by the shopping carts....crack for kids, a nightmare for parents.

So, while I was trying to convince her that we did not need another Halloween decoration, sparkle glitter pen, tube of finger nail polish or knock off Hello Kitty post it note, she belts out...

"Slow down, sister...what's the rush?"

You know what happens when you're running on empty and your kid makes a retort like that?

Shit gets real.

And just as I was about to get snarky back, an elderly woman burst out laughing.

"Oh my God...now that is funny."

Yep, showed up by my kindergartner.

Great lesson for me at Target.