A pretty woman fantasy.

When we leave our house people usually respond to us in one of two ways... "Wow, looks like you've got your hands full!" (With a merry chuckle and a pat on the back.) OR "Wow, looks like you've got your hands full." (With a what-the-heck-were-you-thinking-birthing-all-those-children-then-daring-to-bring-them-here under-tone.)

I'd say the majority of folks give the friendly chuckle. But sometimes (like today) they don't. Sometimes store clerks won't even help me because they disapprove so very much of my unruly crew.

And who can blame them really?

When the stinkers nearly tip over a shopping cart, touch everything in the specialty store, bicker back and forth about everything, and run off down every isle, leaving me frantic... Well, I can see why somebody looking in from the outside may not approve. You know what, I don't even approve! Not cool, kids!

Oh, can't you just sit still and eat this nice milkshake I got you?

No? Fine then, we're going to the car.

Can't you just be happy with the stickers we got and stop asking for every other toy in the store?

The worst is getting home from rough errands and realizing that you bought the wrong thing. Ever done that?

So here's my Pretty Woman fantasy;

I walk into the fabric store looking like Victoria Beckham, plus three, dapper, totally well-behaved boys flanking me and inwardly-laugh at all the people who want to cut my fabric for me now.
picture via.

Then I will go to the Children Learning Store, dressed as classy as Gloria Vanderbilt with strapping young men holding each of my hands and say very loudly, "My, what tacky puzzles!"... OK, I have a few years to work on what I would actually say.
via.
Most likely I wouldn't say a word to any store clerks or anything because ultimately this dream isn't about revenge. I really would just like to feel like a normal person in public, instead of a three-ringed-circus.