Adventures in Super Target

“So what did I miss?” I asked my husband Tom as I hung up the phone with my mother. We’ll be flying back to Texas on Saturday for our beach trip so we were discussing that.

“Oh man, shit hit the fan!” Tom gushed, waving his arms in the air. “The house found out that Ronnie was playing both sides!”

He was telling me about the reality show Big Brother. It’s a program that he claims to hate, yet he seemed pretty excited as he explained to me that the house was in an uproar and people were shouting at Ronnie, especially Russell.

I’m amused that he even knows the names.

He always mocks me for watching it—“this show is awful, people always cry, blah blah blah”—but he still ends up watching.

But there is one thing for sure that I know he doesn’t like.

And that’s shopping.

We went to Fort Collins over the weekend because they have more stores (and food!) to offer. We take the kids to Toys R Us which I suppose is a store that Tom enjoys because he’s like a big kid.

I’m not going to lie. So am I. I always marvel at how many toys are out and wish that I had a dollhouse with a talking face on it when I was a kid.

Beside Toys R Us is a Super Target which I always drool over when we pass it.

“We have a Target in Cheyenne,” Tom always reminds me.

True. But it’s not a Super Target. It’s just a boring old regular Target.

“I’m just going to quickly pop in and make sure the toys haven’t gone 75% off,” I told Tom on Saturday. The last time I checked a lot of them had gone to 50% off. Suppose they suddenly switch over to 75% off and I miss it?

“Is there such thing as you going into Target quickly?” Tom questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“It can happen!” I said indignantly. “I’m just going to take a gander…”

“Take a gander, my foot. Look, we’ll all go in, okay?” Tom said.

Hooray!

The first thing I noticed about Super Target was that they had better carts. The carts at my regular target are a reddish clunky thing and most of the wheels get stuck. The carts at Super Target were this stylish gray color with a thick handle bar. It was a smooth ride as I pushed it along into the store.

“Aren’t these carts amazing?” I asked Tom brightly.

“It’s a cart, Amber,” he replied dryly.

Okay, he says that but when we go to Lowes he practically does a happy dance over the boring riding lawn mowers. He really wants one. Our yard is too small for a riding lawn mower. But Tom refuses to give up the dream that he might one day get one for his birthday.

Anyhow, I was walking towards the toy section and talking to Tom about our beach trip and was all, “The rooms apparently have a king size bed in them which will be awesome so I don’t have to be shoved by your oversized man feet in the middle of the night…” when I realized he wasn’t beside me.

Did he stomp off since I mentioned his man feet? Maybe he was having an overly sensitive day. I really think men go through their own version of PMS because some weeks Tom will just latch onto everything I say and twist it around into something negative. Like when I asked him to take the trash out a few weeks ago he suddenly got all defensive.

“Do I tell you when to mop the floor?” he demanded.

Um.

“No but the trash is overflowing and I’d rather disgusting paper towels didn’t start to litter the floor,” I explained. “Plus it smells.”

“Do I tell YOU when to MOP the floor?” he repeated. A vein started to pop out from his neck. It always starts to protrude when he gets upset. I’ve named it Mr. Veiny.

“Tom, I just explained why I asked you to take the trash out,” I said, rubbing my temples.

He did it but he was in a foul mood for about two hours. This is why I don’t feel too bad when I have my own PMS moments.

“Tom?” I called out, wondering where in the world he took off to in Super Target.

“Tom?” Natalie repeated. She’s been calling us by our first names and we always correct her and explain that no, actually we’re Mom and Dad.

“That’s Daddy to you,” I said and tickled her stomach.

“TOM!” Natalie said again and laughed.

It turns out he was down the car crap aisle. He had one of those ShamWow things in his hands.

“I’m going to use this to wash the truck,” he said as though he hadn’t just pulled a disappearing act.

“Tom, could you tell me when you’re going down an aisle?” I asked sweetly. “I was totally having a conversation with myself about the king sized bed at the beach.”

It was like Tom didn’t even hear me because he was all, “And I’m getting this stuff to wax the truck,” and threw in a bottle called ICE in the cart.

“You do know those ShamWow things don’t work. They tried it on The Today Show and the consensus was that you should just use paper towels,” I pointed out.

Tom thinks everything that is offered for sale on the TV actually works.

“I want to try it,” Tom said stubbornly.

I let it drop. He can learn for himself that ShamWows are crap.

Then we got into the toy section and there were no further sales. Boo. But it was still worth it to check out the Super Target and use their awesome carts.

After that we went to the mall which Tom tolerates because he always gets an Orange Julius. Plus he gets two of his candy apples from the Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory.

Tom also likes looking in the pet store because he wants a dog.

I say no way. I’d lose my mind.

Tom wants one of those Siberian Husky dogs.

“No way. I’d lose my mind,” I always say.

“But it’s so cute! Isn’t it so cute, Tommy?” Tom will attempt to try and get Tommy to coerce me.

It doesn’t work. When I see a puppy I do think that it’s cute. But I also am reminded of how you have to train it and really, I’m still working on training my husband.

Maybe when the kids are older I’ll surprise him with one. He would never suspect it.

But it wouldn’t be for many many years from now.

And by many years from now I’m talking about ten years.