As I said before, we pretty much cannot walk into a public place without the comment "are these all yours?" thrown out there at least once - and always right away. Its like a silent alarm goes off that only normal people with 2.5 kids can hear that says "crazy lady with 100 kids just walked in! Someone go make sure they all belong to her."
Yesterday was no exception. It was one of those times where I knew all day that I had to do it and so had plenty of time to mentally prepare. And threaten. Everyone knew what had to happen and we were like a machine...until Lydia stopped in just about every single aisle to take off her shoes and scratch her feet. I think we caused enough traffic jams to have a target on our backs by the end. You know how when you're grocery shopping, you run into the same people in every aisle as you work your way to the front? Well, we pretty much pissed off everyone in the store. I even saw someone turn around and go the other way when they saw us. At least no one was screaming.
One of the people that was shopping along with us was a man with his son in the cart. I didn't get a good look at the kid so I don't know how old he was (I had one eye on my kids and the other on my kids). At one point, as I was hauling gallons and gallons of milk into our cart, I looked up at the guy and saw the dreaded look of panic. The look that I know I get when I realize we're gonna have to leave the cart and go home only to start all over again the next day. Then I heard him say to his kid (in the paniced, please don't start screaming voice) "its gonna be ok, buddy. Just please don't freak out. We can do this! We're almost done." Part of me felt so bad for him because I've been there and it sucks...but also part of me wanted to walk up to him, slap him in the face and say "pull it together, man!" I didn't though. I just ran away. With 100 kids right behind me.