Going shopping? Me and whose army?

A screenshot from Wolfenstein 3D.

Soon after I started this blog, I wrote about how something as simple as going shopping with a young child was more like a military operation. How easy that seems now we’ve got two of them!

We recently took Dylan and Xander into Eastbourne for what was supposed to be a brief trip. And, as I’m sure all more experienced parents can testify, it can sometimes be pointless to have a plan.

Kate and I had been really proactive. Despite it being a Saturday and the fact we were tired due to Xander’s natural immunity to sleeping at night, we had purpose.

We had actually showered, dressed and eaten a cooked breakfast by 9am and were ready to go. The boys had other ideas.

First of all, Xander decided that his regular feeds weren’t enough and that he was going to start binge drinking well ahead of his teens. Feed on demand, the midwives told us though, so poor Kate had to oblige.

Meantime, Dylan chose this point to do the biggest poo I have ever seen. Seriously, this thing could have qualified for its own postcode. It was so gargantuan that I actually contemplated taking a photo before I conceded to myself that it would look slightly out of place in the family album.

Not wanting the angry-looking beast lurking in a nappy bag for any amount of time, I decided to flush it. It took three attempts. I was disgusted and impressed in equal measure. Anyway, shall we move on? I think we should…

We eventually got into town. This was three hours later. First, Xander filled two nappies during rare breaks from trying to smash the world record for breast milk consumption.

Then Dylan insisted on having his lunch early. We had an enjoyable time. Apart from the bit when we had to go into a particular clothes shop that seems to attract unpleasant people.

I’m not being a snob here, but you know the type. They swear at their children when they’re not ignoring them. I’m not one to knock other people’s parenting skills, but people who direct abusive language at their kids is where I draw the line.

We go there to get odds and sods for the boys as they grow out of them so quickly and it’s cheap. But it reminds me of that classic video game, Wolfenstein 3D.

You have to weave through maze-like floors packed with undesirables in search of the lift that gets you out, only to lead to another level of carnage.

The surrogate boss battle in this ‘game’ was provided by a drunk man and his imaginary friend who seemed to want to make friends with me. Thankfully my weirdo magnet isn’t as strong as it once was and they soon found another victim.

For those who don’t know Wolfenstein, by the way, it’s a first-person shooter set during the second world war.

See? I said going shopping with kids was like a military operation…

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