When a child throws a tantrum in Marshall’s, I feel for the mom. Marshall’s is meant to be a meandering, emotional massage of wondering through racks with no real goal – a  treasure hunt with no skin in the game.  Unlike grocery stores with great opportunities for language acquisition – oranges, apples, bananas, Cheerios, eggs, ice cream – shopping for clothes doesn’t offer the same stimuli.  Somehow Lucky Brand, Calvin Klein, Under Armour, and Nike don’t cut it.

Let me tell you, shopping for clothes with kids poses the risk of temporary child disappearance. I took Katie and Bethy as toddlers to Carson’s in Evergreen Plaza, and I’m still not over it. I was pregnant with Brendan and foolishly let the girls out of the double stroller.  As I was checking out, I lost sight of Bethy. Completely panicked, I picked up Katie and alerted every salesclerk that Bethy was missing. I shouted Bethy’s name over and over, but got no answer. Few shoppers were out on this drizzly early morning, so all hands were on deck as we searched the racks for my missing child. Heart racing and imagination firing to a kidnapping scenario, I clutched Katie as I pulled aside racks of sweaters and shirts. I prayed that Bethy was playing Hide and Seek. Within a few minutes that seemed like hours, I found Bethy twirling in a dressing room surrounded by three mirrors providing multiple angles of her blond hair and blue dress. Intrigued with her own image, she smiled angelically up at me through the triple reflection as I hid tears of relief. It still gives me chills to think to think about that pre-nap morning as I sought adventure outside of our Sesame Street routine.  

Big Bird, blocks and books provided all the remaining excitement I needed until Brendan was born.