"Don't I look Pretty?"

The other day, I had to go to Wal-Mart and to the grocery store in the same afternoon. I know it's unusual that such a trip would ever be necessary because few Wal-Marts exist that aren't super centers... but in my little town, no such luxury as a Super Wal-Mart. We still have a little old regular Wal-Mart that closes at 10:00 PM and does not sell food. When we moved here, I was actually excited that there wasn't a Super Center. See, the town we had just moved from was also very small. While it had a Wal-Mart Super Center, it was the ONLY store to shop... at all. So I managed to be there, all the time. Once, when I was shopping with the kids along, I pushed the twins double stroller around the corner of the dairy section and one of the employees looked up from the yogurt he was restocking and said, "Oh, look! It's the Wal-Mart twins!"

Shoot. Me. Now.

Am I actually in this store enough that people recognize me and my kids? And did he just call my children the Wal-Mart twins? Of all the titles I would never claim intentionally... that has to be at the top of the list. So anyway, I was very glad to move away from said Super Wal-Mart and my reputation as mother of the Wal-Mart twins. The only disadvantage is that now I actually have to venture in to two stores when I need to buy vacuum cleaner bags AND Parmesan cheese. Oh, the horror.

Okay, now back to the story (since all of my ramblings about Wal-Mart don't actually have anything to do with what I wanted to write about this morning). I was going to Wal-Mart and then over to the grocery store in one afternoon. I have all the kids with me, because where else on earth would they be but with me, and Lucy decides that the five dollar purple flowered dress hanging on the clearance rack at Wal-Mart is suddenly the most desired article of clothing in the universe. She HAD to have it. She danced, she pranced, she begged, she pleaded, she said please until her chin stuck out so far and her neck strained I thought her eyes might near pop out of her head. Five dollars. Okay. We'll buy the dress, and the vacuum cleaner bags. So now we're off to the grocery store. Before going in, Lucy decides that she must put on her new dress. (In case there is a cute four year old with his Mom also buying Parmesan cheese?) So I help her change standing in the grocery store parking lot.

Lucy smooths down her new dress, tucks her hair behind her ear, and says to her brothers,
"Boys, do you see how pretty I look?"

I don't think her brothers even looked up. I mean, come on, do they care how pretty she looks?

Lucy, undeterred, says, in a little higher, little louder voice, "BOYS! Do you see how pretty I look?!"

Again, no response.

Seeing that this could easily end in biting, pinching, pushing, or worse a ripped new dress, I say "Boys, tell your sister that she looks pretty."

Sam takes a deep breath, and says under his breath and through clenched teeth, "You. look. pretty."

I could hear how terrible the words tasted to him. Still, they seemed to do the trick. I swear I did not teach that little girl how to swing her hips, but she sauntered in to that grocery store like she was on the red carpet at the Oscars.

Oh dear. At least I don't have to worry about her confidence.