First let's just get the milestones out of the way real quick: Tonight we went on our first school supply shopping trip with Owen, and Paige wore a little pink barrette in her wispy baby hair for the first time and looked adorable as sin. And there was a first for me, as well. I do believe that tonight may have been the first time I ever truly had the urge to tell my children a story that began with the words, "In MY day..."

Because, get this, school supply shopping was no big deal to Owen.

That's okay, I'll wait for you to collect yourself.

In MY day, school supply shopping was a major event. We got excited about it from the moment our supply lists arrived in the mail, and once in the store, we took our time, painstakingly choosing our pencils and crayons and notebooks. When we got home, we spread out all the supplies and admired them and placed them lovingly in our new bookbags and tried the bookbags on and wished we could go to school at that very moment, just so we could open everything up and use it.

But no, not my child.

Today's events unfolded thus: After lunch, we convinced the boys to take a little nap because, we told them, it was Saturday, and sometimes on Saturday nights we like to do something a little special, a little fun, something that may keep us out a bit late. This was our bargaining chip and not a false one; it's true that we often go out on Saturday evenings, sometimes to a movie, sometimes to get ice cream, sometimes to browse the bookstore. So the boys napped. Then, after dinner, their expectations were raised.

Owen asked what we were going to do, and I announced that we were going to Target to get his school supplies. He seemed fine with that. I naively thought that getting school supplies would be a fun thing to do. As I mentioned, in MY day...

Now, I've had the school supply list for about 2 weeks, and I've been waiting for Target to set up their seasonal school supply section where the markers and crayons and erasers are displayed in big inviting bins and marked down a good bit from their usual prices. I was also savoring the list a little bit, not wanting the school supply shopping to be over with too quickly. So, see, I'd been anticipating this errand, like the true nerd that I am.

We got there and had a grand old time picking everything out. We let Owen choose whatever he wanted, even hideous licensed crap like Transformer folders and Hot Wheels notebooks.  We spent the most time (and rightly so) picking out a new lunch box, a task which I thought was hella fun. When we finished, John took the kids to the in-store Starbucks get us some coffee, and I checked out, forking over nearly 40 dollars for the goodies. When we met up again, Mitch said, "Are we going home?" And I joked, "What, wasn't that enough fun for you guys?" and John said, "Actually, no. Owen just finished falling apart in Starbucks." I looked down and, sure enough, the child's face was red and splotchy and twisted in frustration. I asked him what was wrong, and he told me, "I thought we were going to do something FUN tonight" and proceeded to fall apart some more.

Well. I went on a little diatribe which eventually led to Owen's telling me on the drive home, "Okay, okay, it was fun, mommy!" Later, I continued the diatribe, though in a calmer, kinder voice, until I finally felt like Owen was really listening and beginning to understand why his behavior had been spoiled and bratty and spoiled bratty. When I finished he was silent for a moment, then, in soft voice, he started, "Mommy..." I waited for the acknowledgment, the apology, the recognition. But he said, "Mommy...can I play on the computer?"

The school supplies are still in the bag. I don't know what kind of monster I've raised.