Saturday Night

     This evening, after I got done with work, and after Clara had taken her nap, we decided to go to Home Depot.  Not the most fabulous Saturday night plans ever.  However, my Swiffer Wet Jet broke last week (I was applying too much pressure to a stain originated by Wilbur, and the Wet Jet's handle just snapped) and we needed a patio table cover and some new shelving for the play room, so it was a pretty exciting outing for me, at least.
     We decided to go to Boise Fry Company on the way for dinner.  Clara ate about a cupful of purple French Fries whilst sitting in front of an impressive array of dipping sauces: blueberry ketchup, garlic aioli, sour Thai, fry sauce, spicy ketchup, and, of course, regular ketchup. She allowed Simon to place a bite of bison burger on her tongue.  After a five-second interval, during which her baby brain presumably received unfavorable reviews about bison taste and texture, she spat it back into Simon's hand.
     After we finished eating, Simon asked Clara if she'd like to sit on the potty.
     "No!" she said irritably.
     I tossed my head breezily and said loudly to Simon, "Daddy, I'm going potty.  I'll see you outside."
     A man at the table next to us frowned and glanced quickly at me.
     Clara ran to me.  "Mommy! Baby goes potty! Too!"
     In the restaurant bathroom, Clara and I finished the elaborate dance of pulling down drawers, sitting, producing, hopping off, cleaning up, pulling up drawers, flushing toilet, yelling in ecstasy while watching the swirling water, and washing hands.
     I had just gotten her outside and strapped into her car seat when she yelled, "Poop!" Gas sounds erupted from her dainty Guess-brand, embroidery-embelished jeans like a machine gun.
     It was a false alarm.  We had two more at a coffee shop down the street, where we had stopped to get Clara some chocolate as a reward for tinkling in the potty at Boise Fry Company.
     "Let's go, Daddy," she said as we finally pulled out of the coffee shop parking lot.  "Baby needs boon [balloon]."
     "We're going to the Home Depot, Sweets," I said.  "Your balloon is at the house."
     "Yes.  Baby goes home.  Boon.  Boon home."
     "I think she thinks we're saying 'home' for 'Home Depot,'" I said.
     "Daddy, 'nop!!"
     "No, we go on a green light, Sweetie," Simon explained.
     "Oh.  I see green balls."
     "Yes, those are stoplights."
     At the Home Depot, Clara ran up and down the aisles, chasing Simon and yelling like a banshee.  They played hide and seek in the outdoor section for a bit.  Then Simon ducked inside the electric doors to hide behind a display.  The doors shut, leaving Clara alone in the dark, cold patio section.
     Of course, the doors opened immediately when she ran at them, but that didn't stop her screams of betrayal and abandonment.  I could hear the browbeating she gave Simon halfway across the store.  Looking both amused and abashed, he brought her to me.
     "I want my Mommy!!" she howled.  Her face was bright red and streaked with tears.  She burrowed her head into my neck and wiped her runny nose across my shoulder.  She tried to push her legs up under her and against my chest, making her bottom stick out like a stinkbug's.
     It was over within thirty seconds.  She bellowed a few last times to articulate her feelings of injustice and then asked to be put down so she could commence running through the store like a heathen, Simon carefully tracking her and keeping her out of harm's way.
     Tragedy struck again ten minutes later when Clara inadvertently whacked her head against the side of the cart.  Since we were finished shopping, I brought her to the front of the store and left Simon to bring along the cart.  We hadn't gotten any chocolate at the coffee shop after all because the line was too long, so I got a bag of M & M's at the checkout counter at the Home Depot.
     "Were you the one I heard just now?" the cashier asked Clara kindly, as Clara hiccoughed and rubbed her eyes with her fists.  Understanding the intensity of emotion and its various cures, the cashier quickly scanned the bag of M&M's and handed them back to me. I ripped open the bag and offered Clara a blue one.
     "Mommy, I need chocolate," she sighed as she carefully took it with her baby fingers and put it into her mouth.