Adventures in Shopping

We took a family outing Saturday to Target because we're just that entertained by retail. Truthfully, they had school supplies on sale and we needed milk and other food-type items, so I sent the Husband and the Toddler off to the grocery side while the older child and I ventured off on our own. We had a list and a mission statement. We were ready.

Of course, once we entered School Supplies Land, our respective cases of ADD kicked in and what should have been a seven minute venture turned into a 30 minute excursion. I tried to ignore Bob's incessant "Hey Mom! Look at this! Hey Mom! Look at these! Hey Mom! Hey Mom! Hey Mom!" while he ignored my "Hey Bob, check this out! Hey Bob, over here! Hey Bob, stay where I can see you! Hey Bob, stop eating that eraser!" I tried to somewhat keep track of where my kid was while simultaneously deciphering the cryptic school supplies list. (Seriously, I have visions of a bunch of teachers gathered around a margarita pitcher trying to see what kind of crazy shit they can make us parents hunt for. "How 'bout dry-erase markers? Yeah--wait--low odor dry-erase markers! That's even better! Yeah, put that on there!") Eventually we located all the necessary items on the list and I set sail in the binder aisle.

Times have changed since I was in school. Gone are the rows and rows of Trapper Keepers in an array of colors and styles. There was but one stack of Trapper Keepers, in fact, albeit a stack in varied hues. I spotted a pink one and picked it up for inspection.

Man, was that disappointing. The sturdy vinyl-covered cardboard construction has been replaced by some sort of flimsy, flexible plastic coated in what might be highly-flammable nylon. The magnetic flap closure is actually not very secure at all. And inside? Three. Metal. Rings. Not to mention the thing is only about an inch deep, where the old-school TK's were a good 2-3 inches.

I settled on a white, 1-inch, 3-ring binder, the "clear-view" type that soured my relationship with Trapper Keeper in the first place. What can I say--I'm a binder slut.

Having spent the past few days filling my new binder, I've come to the conclusion one inch is not nearly enough room to cram in all the crap required for my organizational needs. I was debating a trip back to Target during yesterday's dinner when my husband piped up:

"I am going to Wal-Mart this evening. I am going to buy things."

Uh...okay. I'll play. What kind of things?

"Things that will prevent the Toddler from ever opening another cabinet, drawer or door, ever again, for the rest of his life."

Ah, yes. Things that will make it possible for either or both of us to prepare meals and/or clean up dishes without the Toddler (a) emptying the pantry, (b) emptying the Tupperware cabinet, (c) emptying the pots and pans cabinet, (d) running off with a knife pilfered from the dishwasher, or (e) all of the above.

I considered asking him to pick up a binder for me while he was out, but thought against it. Something about the evil glint in his eye. Plus, binder shopping is something I prefer to do alone. Like drinking.