Can I get a Wah Wah?

One of the best things I've ever witnessed in all my life has become a joyful, internal mantra of mine. An inside joke running through my own head I enjoy endlessly. Sometimes paired with a loud verbal proclamation that usually causes those within earshot to wonder what the hell I'm talking about and just what exactly is my problem. This, of course, makes me even happier because I'm inherently evil and making someones prim little head snap around in surprise makes the devil on my left shoulder giggle like a schoolgirl. It just never gets old.

I've also attempted to epitomize the players in this story, borrowing lines and actions with thankful glee, to gain an advantage during a tense situation a few times. Although something usually gets lost in the translation and my efforts to weasel out of a predicament fall short. However, I encourage you to use the following and see where it gets you. Might be surprised. And besides, it's fun.

It was a normal Saturday afternoon and I was shopping in Target. Or it could have been a Thursday night. Or a Monday afternoon. Or any friggen day of the week since most people know Target is my self-proclaimed house of worship and on this particular occasion the angels sang on high and communion was served. Granted, it was musak being pumped through a loudspeaker, a bag of Hershey kisses and a liter of diet coke in my shiny red cart, but it still counts.

I'd made my way around the right side perimeter of the store, as is my usual Target trekking style. Past the clothing, jammies, purses, jewelry. Cruising through the shoes and picking up a few things here and there. (Very important necessary items, so shut up). Ignoring the men's clothing and hardware, but looking wantonly at the doggie isle.

My next move is usually down the home section for some decorating ideas, but today I made a right instead of a left. And I'm eternally grateful that I did. Inexplicably, perhaps through divine intervention (love you Target!) I ended up in a toy isle. Shielding my eyes from the blindingly pink Barbie boxes and getting wistfully woozy over the Easy Bake Oven.

And dammit, I never got one of those as a kid and I'll never forgive my parents for it, even though they knew I'd eat the cake batter in it's little miniature cake pan before it ever had the chance to slowly broil under the power of a 60 watt light bulb, they still should have gotten me one. Now I can't cook worth a crap and I still eat batter so who didn't learn their lesson? Huh mom and dad? WHO? But I digress...hmf.

I love toys and always will, so I was somewhat mesmerized and having fun silently oo-ing and awe-ing over the new-fangled play dough accoutrement's that involved shapes and squeezy things and bright colored doo-dads instead of my mother's broken, oily rolling pin. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed an obviously haggard young mother toting 3 very small children turning up my isle.

She was pushing the cart with a big fat baby stuffed into the front seat. His chubby, naked feet hanging through the leg holes. There was a young toe-headed boy standing quiet as a mouse at his mothers hip that appeared to be about 3 1/2 and a wee girl, long ringlets spilling down her back, who looked about 2. (Jesus lady, tell your husband to get off ya once and awhile.)

There seemed to be a little scuffle and I was trying to not give my eves-dropping away while I inched ever closer to the scene unfolding before me. Like a Ninja, I am. The mother grabbed the little girl with one hand and took the baby's foot with the other and I heard her loudly, but with straining restraint say "What did you do??" "What DID you do!?!"

I couldn't figure out what the hubbub was about since I hadn't seen anything obvious out of the corner of my voyeuristic eye and none of the kids had made a peep but it was clear something heinous had gone down.

And that's when all hell broke loose.

Or rather the baby, who I realized had been been doing one of those 5 minute inhales of rugrat rage finally exhaled with a scream that could shatter glass, melt your eardrums right down your face and kill a full-grown dog dead on the spot. With his next opened-mouthed pause between howls I heard the mother once again ask the little girl, who was now sporting an impressive pout, "Did you bite your brother's foot??" "DID YOU?"

The bitee was calming down pretty quickly, so now it was the biters turn to express herself. The mother was still pointing to the baby's foot and was leaning down into the little offenders face making it very clear that "you DO NOT EVER put your MOUTH on your BABY BROTHER and BITE him. DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?"

I could barely contain myself. It was like theater. I felt for all of them. The exhausted mom, the poor kid with teeth impressions in his toes and the little girl who, I imagine, felt completely warranted in dishing out her own rough justice however, getting caught sucks. Getting caught and your ass ripped by your mom in public sucks double. And I know a thing or eleventy thousand about that.

Little Shirley Temper, in all her awesomely selfish 2 year-old glory, did not care a fucking wit about the pain she herself had inflicted on her brother and no doubt having a damn good reason in her own mind for doing so. With her pudgy arms tightly folded across her chest and her bottom lip pushed out as far as it would go she stomped her foot and hmph'd loudly, completely ignoring the angry inquisition and giving her irritated mama a little taste of the hormonal teenage years to come.

The requested apology was not coming and I had a feeling hell could freeze over right there between the action figures and Lego's before any true remorse would be shared. And then it happened. A moment of truth so pure I still wish to this day that could have soaked up this scene just a little longer.

The little girl had reached her end. She threw her head back in glorious melodramatic fashion. Sucked in a huge, weepy breath in short staccato bursts. And with all the diva drama of an academy award winner proclaimed with great fervent indignation as powerful as her little voice could profess she said:

"I WANT TO BE HAP-PEEEEEEEEEE!"

And really, who can argue with that?