Men and shopping
It is said in the great book of female wisdom - never take a man shopping. Why didn't I take heed?
Granted, the 'man' in question was a mini one, aged four and technically so happy to be having a day out with mummy that he would behave impeccably......
Junior Two and I set off round Colchester with the plan of buying Father's Day presents and a few other bits and pieces, while indulging in some mother and son bonding.
Perhaps my first mistake was a detour into a store for some girlie shopping (well, every mum deserves a treat...) as the small person sighed and wobbled the perfume displays.
After some essential purchases I was persuaded onto the escalators as payback - which was fine until it was time to journey back down from the top floor.
I jumped aboard the moving staircase just as Junior Two gave a nifty hop so he remained on unmoving ground, smirking as he watched me sailing downwards about to lose sight of him.
"Come here!" I shouted, a bit too loudly, which simply ensured that half the store turned to watch as I reversed and tried to nimbly jog back up the moving escalator.
I am guessing it was like watching one of the failure contestants humiliating themselves on the 'travalator' on the original Gladiators gameshow as I puffed and panted and stayed in the same spot.
Just as I was about to give up the fight, he jumped on the escalator, not noticing the steps separating and immediately falling over. All in all, a giant disaster in the health and safety/dignity stakes.
Sheepishly headed off for a bookshop with an in-house fish tank guaranteed to keep him quiet for five minutes. I was reliving my childhood by flicking through some Enid Blyton when cries of 'no it's mine' and 'I don't like the baby' snapped me into real life as I found Junior Two prostrated over the front of the tank so no-one else could see the fish.
A bewildered young toddler and his mother were (understandably) staring in disbelief at Junior's disgraceful display and smiled pityingly as I wrestled him away to cries of 'the baby can't see the fish, I don't like the baby' which was altogether too loud in the library silence of a bookshop.
'I shouldn't think he likes you either' I said through gritted teeth as I marched him outside for a flop-on-the-floor sulk (his not mine) which I hope entertained the CCTV camera operators.
A trip into Next was then on the agenda with the entertainment of the lift a welcome distraction. After a couple of journeys between the ground and first floor we stopped in the women's shoe section where I wisely decided not to bother trying any on, although I stopped to admire some sparkly sandals which were soooo nice.....
Five minutes later and halfway down the High Street I looked at Junior Two properly and saw, clutched in his paw - the sparkly sandals.....my heart started racing as I imagined the security cameras picking us up as we slunk out the shop and our picture being featured in the newspapers as a 'name this thieving mother' item.
We raced back where I apologised to the friendly assistant and said how sorry Junior Two was. At which he piped up unapologetically 'oh it's funny....it is, it is funny...oh it's funny...it is, it is funny...' (repeat to fade) while my face felt like it was going to burst into flames.
That was that. Our bonding, relaxing shopping trip was over.
It's true - whatever their age - men and shopping do not mix.