Hell is...

taking an almost one year old with a serious balloon and color red fetish to the supermarket where they are giving away RED BALLOONS.

It started innocently enough, as we entered Ralphs (Kroger to those of you east of CA) last night, the greeter girl gave Alton a red Ralphs balloon. How cute! Look how happy he is as he flashes his dimples and happily bounces his balloon!

The balloon kept him entertained for most of the trip through the market with my dad and grandmother. But when we approached the check stand, trouble loomed. Each check stand had a bouquet of red balloons tied to the open sign as well as an assortment of Congratulations Graduate mylar balloons.

It was as if you could see the balls roll into place in his head. Alton swiveled his head from checkstand to checkstand and took in the sights of red balloon nirvana everywhere. Brains clicks; hand reaches for the balloon display; and "SHREEEEEEEEEEEEEEKKKKKKKKKKKKKK."

OH MY GOODNESS, the loud pitched squeal of an almost one year old who can't reach what he wants!

"Alton, you have a balloon. Those ones need to stay here for other little boys and girls." At this point, the cashier is laughing. "SHREEEEEEEEEEEEEEKKKKKKKKKKKKKK." "Alton, this is not acceptable behavior, you need to use your inside voice."

"SHREEEEEEEEEEEEEEKKKKKKKKKKKKKK." At this point, the cashier is starting to look alarmed and other people are looking at us. "Alton, you are hurting Pop Pop's ears. You have a balloon."

"SHREEEEEEEEEEEEEEKKKKKKKKKKKKKK."

Now people are staring and talking behind their hands while they discuss my lack of mothering skills, so I fling my Mastercard at my dad and unbuckle Alton from the shopping cart. He hopefully lunged at the nearest balloon bouquet, and came up empty handed.

"SHREEEEEEEEEEEEEEKKKKKKKKKKKKKK."

"SHREEEEEEEEEEEEEEKKKKKKKKKKKKKK."

"SHREEEEEEEEEEEEEEKKKKKKKKKKKKKK."

He kicked his brand new shoe off and had it land on the conveyer belt where our groceries were being checked. I carried him out to the car with as much dignity as I could muster while his face took on the color of his beloved balloons.

I now see why my mom would take a preemptive advil before going to the market with FOUR children.