YOUR MISSION, SHOULD YOU CHOOSE TO ACCEPT IT…

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    At first glance, it seemed like a very simple task: go to the mall and pick up two different items at two different stores, and return a third item to a third store.

Easy as can be. Now, let’s up the difficulty quotient and add “Tote a two-year-old for the task’s duration.”

It’s like the difference between “tie your shoes” and “tie your shoes while dangling upside down after a bottle of Scotch.”

But I accepted the challenge, mainly because my options were either to accept it or to accept it. When my daughter and I got to the mall, we ran into our first hurdle. The item we were returning was her toy piano and microphone, because every two-year-old needs a karaoke machine. Well, she thinks this piano is the greatest thing on the planet, so you can imagine her displeasure upon seeing it in the trunk of the car. “MY PIANO!!!” she proclaimed. One of two things was going on her in mind: either Daddy is giving the piano away, which would require many more loud proclamations, or Daddy was getting the piano out to play in the mall parking lot, which meant time to sit down and start playing.

Both were unacceptable to me, and making a preemptive strike, I grabbed my daughter under one arm and the piano under the other, hoping that hauling her like a duffel bag would keep her occupied until we got in the store.

Once inside, my daughter decided she needed to walk, which means she would meander through the store as I called back to her come with me. She would drift down an aisle, looking at one item and then another, until I would catch her attention, at which point she would see her piano again, and come running to me screaming, “MY PIANO!!!” This cycle repeated itself for about a third of the mall.

When we got to the toy store, I realized I had made a huge mistake. Two-year-olds have no concept of retail stores. She immediately assumed that these toys were all hers, much like the toys in her room. Or in the rooms of anyone’s house she visits. Simple formula: Toys that are visible = toys that are hers.

So between trying to change out the product, I was constantly having to put toys back on the shelf and chase her down one aisle and then the other, as she would flit from toy to toy like a hopped-up hummingbird. Eventually, she saw a floor model of “her” piano, so that kept her busy long enough to complete the transaction.

When I finally duffel-bagged her out of the store with a new piano (“MY PIANO!!!”), we went to the bookstore. I was given explicit instructions on what to get for a present for another two-year-old. Well, again, think of a two-year-old’s thought process when she enters a store and sees a bunch of books that are identical to the ones in her room. She thinks, of course, that it is time to sing “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.” But after that, she gets back on track and assumes that these are her books, so she had better collect them while singing the “Clean Up” song. (Note to parents of Barney-aged children: sorry for getting that little ditty stuck in your head.)

When I finally wrapped up my purchase at the bookstore, I corralled my daughter, put the 23,000 items back on the shelves, and started to head out. The clerk at the store asked me if I had additional shopping to do. When I told her I did, she offered to let me keep my packages there while I concluded the shopping extravaganza. I took her up on it and headed out for the final leg of the tour. And, of course, what did my daughter scream as she turned and saw the packages on the floor? That’s right: “ATTICA!!!”

No, kidding. She, of course, told the world about her piano being left behind, but I managed to distract her by saying, “Look! There’s Elmo!” Now you may think I’m mean and cruel, but trust me – at any given mall, 40% of the items have Elmo on them, so it was only a matter of time until she saw something with Elmo on it and everything was all better.

The last stop was going to be one of the biggest challenges. I was going to pick up a wedding gift, and as you all know, wedding gifts are only kept in stores that maintain inventories of very breakable items. Before entering, I had a little chat with my daughter. “Remember – when we going in here, no touching. Anything. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” she replied, nodding. “Touch anything.” I am pretty sure she was just being wise at that point.

As we wound through the store, I made every effort not to let my daughter start winging things off the shelves. I did have one thing on my side, however. Since it was early September, Christmas decorations were already going up, so there were legions of Santas around the store to terrify her. Apparently, she still remembers last winter’s little trip to the fat, scary man’s lap.

Eventually, I made it out of the store, and ultimately out of the mall. I’d say I did a pretty good job, all things being equal. I mean, I got two products. I returned a third. And I came home with my daughter, which I’m assuming my wife would have put as the paramount objective of the mission.