Monday, 30 August 2010

An executive decision

Today's plan was simple, some might say idiot prof. Mrs D trudged off to our annual C.A fun/family day with a box of face paints in tow. I would get Jack ready and meet her in an hour or two, how hard could it be? At first things went well, so with the boy in a jolly mood I made an executive decision and set off to our local shopping centre. I had worked out that I could simply "pop" in to clarks, grab a new pair of shoes for the little fellow and be with Mrs D within the hour.

As I strolled into the shop I should has sensed my cunning plan may have been a tad on the optimistic side. Screaming children and frustrated parents covered every inch of the place with staff running round and round in a state of heightened confusion. Head down I plunged through and grabbed a ticket  marked 86. I think by this time Jack must have sensed my inexperience because he decided his nice guy phase was over, this was exactly the same time I heard a faint voice cry 62, next customer, 62.

Almost thirty minutes latter, and with a heavy heart I handed a carefully chosen shoe to one of Clarks finest and whimpered "six and a half F please". Five minutes latter I found myself listening to an in-depth explanation that translated to, we ain't got em in that size. OK, I mumbled through my now tightly clenched teeth, what about these? Eventually a shoe was found to fit the boy, but by this time my mind had started to wonder. I'll leave them here for now and be back shortly, I found myself saying.

As my most cunning of plans developed I found myself heading for one of the sports shops. In fact I trudged through another two shoe emporiums taking both Jack, and myself to the edge of reason and sanity. On three separate occasions I found shoes I really liked, only to be told we don't have em in that size. Finally beaten, I headed back to Clarks safe and secure in the knowledge I could simply "nip" in and grab the pair from behind the counter.

By the time I got back, things had clearly taken a turn for the worse, but the shoes were still there. All I needed to do was double check the size. No problem, the lady behind the counter said, just grab a ticket. Twenty five minutes latter, torn and tattered, with Jack screaming, we left the shop with a new pair of shoes. Of course, but this time any ideas about fun and or family days had long since passed. My only hope was to get the boy home and let him have a nap.

Within seconds the boy was sleeping. I however, have been left to consider the error of my ways. It seems to me that Mums make this whole looking after Children thing appear a little to easy. My experience is this is simply not the case. To every parent who has braved the bank holiday shops to by a pair of shoes, I salute you, I truly salute you.