Peeps

After picking up my son from my ex-mother-in-law this morning, I wanted to stop by Walmart to pick up some cheap shirts to wear at work. My wardrobe selection is a bit slight these days when it comes to things I can wear in polite company. Plus, I’ve lost a little bit of weight in the last year, so clothes that will fit me are a definite plus.

That’s how I found myself in the men’s department in Walmart arguing with my son…

“Daddy. Car. Go. Home,” he said.

“But don’t you want to get a toy before we leave? Like maybe a Hot Wheels car or a new ball or something?” I replied.

“No. Car. Go. Home,” he said.

Having discovered that even toddlers with limited vocabularies hate Walmart, I formulated a plan to keep us in Walmart a few minutes longer, so I could pick up a few things from other parts of the store.

“Do you want to look at the Easter candy?” I asked him.

“Yes,” came the reply, but sounding a lot more like, “Duh, Daddy! What do you think?”

Once we reached the Easter candy aisle, I told my son that he could pick out one item and I‘d get it for him. I walked him the length of the aisle and we turned around at the end.

“What would you like?” I asked.

He ran over to the rather large section of Peeps and pointed at them.

“That!” he said.

“Which color Peeps do you want?” I asked.

“Pink!” came the reply.

This is the scenario that explains the question I received from my mother when she got home from work today. She saw my son and hugged him, then looked behind him and saw the package of Peeps on the kitchen table. She turned back to me and asked:

“Why the hell did you buy him pink Peeps?!?”