And Tess kept admiring at all the pwettyeawings. And we even pierced her beloved Helen's ears that morning at home, (a stuffed dog she sleeps with) and she was so like pwease mama, pierce Tessy's eaws, pwease!
And I'm pretty sure all the folks in Walmart were thinking, (because it's all about the external validation. No?) that they were gonna nominate me for mother of the year. Yea right.
So Mrs-I-have-more-experience-piercing-ears-than-anyone-on-the-planet-because-I-live-in-a-small-town-and-work-at-the-jewelry-counter-at-Walmart takes one look at our little Miss enthusiasm and prepares herself mentally for what is about to unfold. Obviously Mrs-Walmart-jewelry-counter-lady is way smarter than the crazy mama. It's all that excessive exposure to Progesterone that have killed my brain cells.
That's it. Just a quiet matter of fact ouch.
I foolishly let myself envision this going off without a hitch. Maybe the high pain threshold, side effect of post institutionalization orphans has a benefit after all?
Notice the furrowed brow. Notice the stink eye.
Candy solves everything... right?
***at this point you'll have to use your imagination to visualize the carnage. Photography became a bottom priority.***
The crying started. Then the screaming. Then
Walmart patrons from as far as the automotive department came to witness the mother that was maltreating her child.
Tess, realizing she would need to take matters into her own hands to prevent what was about to come, (or rather feet seeing as how yours truly was holding her hands preventing her from scratching out Mrs-jewelry-counter-Walmart's eyes out) planted her foot against Mrs.-I-saw-this-coming-all-along-genius-Walmart-jewelry-counter-lady, and kicked her firmly in the shoulder.
Oh yes she did.
Tess kicked her.
And Mrs.-I-really-deserve-to-get-paid-far-more-money-for-this-job fell back onto the floor.
Taking a sunglasses display with her.**
The crowd was considerable at this point.
It was just the distraction we needed.
In a group effort, the 4 of us, Papa, Livy, Mrs. Walmart, and me, were ultimately able to wrestle this mighty 25 pound wonder.
We finally got the second ear pierced.
Patrons were snickering. Pointing. My Mother of the Year award was in undoubtedly in question.
About 10 minutes later, and since then, Tess adores her pwettyeawings.
And now that I'm at the end of this story, I'll leave you with this final image---
"So she was all like running around happy and excited! We had finally gotten to the Walmart for her pwettyeawings. She was so excited. Really she was."