Michaels is not for Children

Yesterday, I needed to go to Michaels for a component of my mother-in-law's gift. Due to time and scheduling constraints, I took all three kids.

Bad mistake. But you knew that already, didn't you?

Sabrina and Sasha were literally rolling on the floor on top of each other. They were (also literally) running in circles around me. They were shrieking, screaming, and laughing. And then, because they were attacking each other with such gusto, they were crying.

Fortunately, the clientele at Michaels is all mothers and grandmothers. One refined looking septuagenarian laughed out loud at the kids' shenanigans. In hindsight, and even at the time, I appreciate her attitude, but I was too busy failing to corral my children, pushing a cart with Raiden in it, and CARRYING my purchase (it was too big to fit in the cart with Raiden even in the kid seat thingy) to truly appreciate the amusing points of my situation.

Anyway, I got out of there with my children intact, if not my sanity. Sabrina got hurt right before we got done, which was no surprise given their style of play, and I couldn't manage to give her a lot of sympathy. The best I could do was not say "See what happens when you are disobedient? Instant punishment! Yay Satan's plan!" But boy was I glad to get out of that store, lock down -- oops, buckle up -- my children, and peel rubber out of there.