I am Jack's complete lack of surprise.

It's Thursday. Generally, this would be a post about my yoga class shenanigans because I look forward to Zenning myself out. Unfortunately, it started 18 minutes ago and I'm typing from my house. Instead you get to hear about my Wal-Mart shenanigans...again.

Last night I needed a few grocery staples, i.e. milk, turkey, underpants. Off to Wally World we go. I ate a quesadilla before packing up, Michael fed his to the dog. Unfortunately, not finishing your dinner is a trigger for Cranky Baby Syndrome.

CBS kids will often exhibit symptoms such as, but not limited to: near convulsions and a severe desire to throw things from carts, restless leg syndrome, the inability to speak under 140 decibels, pointing at strangers (especially creepy ones), belief that he or she can fly if given the opportunity to jump from the cart, an inexplicable inability to sit down or follow simple commands, and random shoe loss.

As this was a particularly difficult flare up of CBS, I had to cut my shopping short. Of course, not before realizing that he had lost a shoe somewhere from the parking lot to the middle of the frozen foods section. And it hadn't been a straight trip from A to B. As I forcing my toddler into the seat of the cart and retracing my steps to locate his missing sandal, I noticed a man in uniform running up to me yelling "Ma'am! Ma'am!"

Great, the cops have come to seize Michael. I guess my constant screaming of "SIT DOWN!" and shoving him back onto his bum might have been construed as "child endangerment." And the guilt of not purchasing eyeshadow last week was nearly giving me turrets because I was severely fighting "I stole stuff!" from escaping my mouth. Which must have been all over my face because he had a confused look himself.

"Your shoe is up at customer service. I found it and gave it to them. Been looking everywhere for you."

Turns out, he was just a nice guy trying to help me out. I think I thanked him. Things become a big whirl of what the fuck when you're about to faint. Shoe recovered, all is well.

Or it would be except for the Banshee in my cart squealing for a banana like he wants to mate with it. I think it was that point that the man with no teeth asked if I wanted to sell Michael to him. I said "Oh no, sometimes it feels like it...but no."

Everyone looked at me with big, pitiful eyes from the produce section up to the checkout stand. Even the cashier said, "You look like you're deep in thought." I guess I was because it startled me. That, or I'm not used to cashiers acknowledging that I have arrived in their presence. I just looked at him and said "I'm definitely somewhere" with a hint of stress and whatever dignity I had left in my voice.

Then Michael threw the package of underwear I had just bought onto the ground of the parking lot and continued screaming until I gave him half a banana in the car.

Today's subject line quote is Narrator, "Fight Club" (1999).