They were running down the wide aisle of Target between home goods and groceries, screaming like banshees, when I turned to Jesse and said, “I don’t know why they’re so crazy today! I didn’t even give them cocaine.” (Note: I do not ever give my children illegal drugs. Please don’t call DCF.)
“SHHHHH,” he hissed at me. “Don’t say shit like that! They repeat everything!”
I cringed. He’s right. Which Emmett promptly demonstrated by screeching, “I REPEAT EVERYTHING! I’M A REPEATERRRRRRRRRR!” as he veered into the canned vegetable aisle.
Which of course led to a conversation about how you can’t go where Mommy and Daddy can’t see you when we’re out places because someone could steal you. Which prompted the woman who overheard us from the other side of the store (not joking) to come over and chime in with some grandmotherly commentary (that I didn’t particularly want) to the children about how someone could steal them or us if they wander away from us, so stay with Mommy and Daddy.
So basically it was like every trip to Target with the kids where I go in with a specific list of things but it quickly gets so crazy that I fill my basket with random impulse buys and get home without actually purchasing anything I went there for in the first place. You know how it goes.
Later that day, I said something I can’t remember to Emmett (he was about an inch away from my face while I was peeing, so I think I have a good excuse for not remembering what exactly I said), to which he replied, “You shouldn’t say that because I’m a repeater and I repeat things.”
“What do you repeat?” I asked. I was still on the toilet, FYI, because he was blocking the toilet paper.
“What do you repeat?” he said.
“Do you repeat things?” I asked, praying that what I thought was happening was not actually happening.
“Do you repeat things?” he responded.
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