Whoever invented those goofy shopping carts shaped like race cars and space shuttles should be shot. There is no nice way of putting it. The person should be shot and those that continue to manufacture them should be right there with them on the front lines.

For many folks, those cute little carts are probably a Godsend that keep their little ones entertained, contained and happy for the duration of a grocery trip. For us they are evil! We have a little girl who is completely obsessed and over the moon for cars and trucks. So the first few times we put her in the car-shaped cart she was thrilled. She would turn the wheel and make “vroom, vroom” noises as we cruised the commissary aisles. Everything was fine a fabulous until the shopping trip ended. Then the screaming fest would begin.

Allison would literally scream like her toenails were being systematically ripped off as we peeled her out of the car carts. She would throw full-size toddler tantrums, kicking, screaming, back arched, arms flailing as we tried to exit the store.

So now we know that we have to avoid the cars at all costs so that we don’t have a huge scene when we are done shopping.

So yesterday we went to the Exchange to see Santa. Unfortunately for us the Exchange is one of those places that has these carts. Daddy was able to usher her into the store and past the carts with relative ease. While we cruised the aisles waiting for Santa to arrive, Allison suddenly started crying and pointing. We thought maybe she saw Santa and was scared. Oh, if only it were that simple. No instead, some other wonderful caring parent had put their child in the car cart and was heading straight for us. What were we going to do?

Well we did what any other sane parent would do. We began playing a game of hide and seek with the stupid cart. We were literally acting like spies incognito trying to determine the carts next move and trying even more desperately to keep the cart out of view from Allison. Jason would run to the end of one aisle and check both ways to see where they were headed next. Then I would take the next aisle.

UGH! These people were killing us. They were zig-zagging all over the garden area. Why couldn’t they shop like any other logical person out there (the way I shop!) - - up one aisle, and down the next aisle, that way there is no backtracking for forgotten or missed items. For 20 minutes we dodged the stupid shopping cart all the while making it seem like a game to Allison. I’m sure the folks manning the security cameras were just about to tackle us figuring we were up to no good when finally the offenders picked out a fake tree and left the area.

And then the first encounter with Santa began. Allison did relatively well. She didn’t scream, but she didn’t get too close either. The beautiful thing is, Santa will be in the same spot for the next two Saturdays, so guess where we will be next Saturday. Although this time I may stand at the door and offer cash to anyone who opts for a regular cart instead of the car carts!

So Allison is now 18 months old and started exhibiting some signs that she is becoming more aware of wet and stinky diapers and what causes them. A few weeks ago she started grabbing her diaper and whining at about the same time each night. After a few days I finally figured it out and asked her if she needed to go potty. Sure enough she would tottle into the bathroom and stand next to the toilet and wait. I would take her diaper off and hold her on the toilet. Nothing ever resulted, but at least we seemed to be heading in the right direction.

Then last week we had a little trauma. Our routine started off pretty much the same, she grabbed her diaper, I asked her the million dollar question and she scuttled off to the bathroom. I placed her on the toilet and nothing happened. So there we were just chatting in the bathroom. I was sitting on the floor next to the toilet, she was standing next to me butt naked. All of the sudden the pee started flowing. In a great and oh-so-calm mommy moment I panicked, grabbed her and tried to hoist her on to the toilet to do her thing.

Obviously the trickle of pee combined with me grabbing her quickly and ushering her toward the toilet scared poor little Allison. She tightened every muscle in her body and became rigid as a board. My attempt to get her sitting on the toilet were in vain, the only part of her body that got close to the toilet were her feet that we now in the toilet bowl. Meanwhile her thighs were clinched so tightly together that the pee was making a perfect arch and spraying all over me. I continued in my attempts to get her to bend at the hips and sit on the toilet and she continued to pee all over me. Of course at this point I am screaming,, “No! WAIT! SIT!!,” anything to get her to cooperate.

Unfortunately at this point she is also screaming and scared to death that she’d done something wrong. UGH! So when the longest pee in the history of 18-month-olds ends I am soaked in pee and she is screaming in fear, running butt naked through the house to the safety of daddy.

Of course daddy is not so supportive and tells me that that was not the proper way to handle the situation {DUH! Thanks, Captain Obvious!}

So now we are trying to determine how to proceed. Unfortunately, she is, I think, scarred for life about the potty. Now in the evening when she grabs her diaper and I ask her if she needs to go potty, she whines, shakes her head vehemently and runs in the opposite direction of me. Sounds like it’s daddy’s turn to take over potty training duty and show me how it’s supposed to be done, right?