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When my daughter was about two, we were shopping in the grocery store and it was very busy. She was sitting in the seat portion of the cart facing me as I pushed the cart. We got in the long line to the cash register, and all of a sudden she goes, pointing to the crotch of my jeans, "Daddy, is that your penis?"
I did my best to "cover" this, so to speak, by going, "No, honey, we're not buying peanuts."
She also loved to act like we were beating her to death if we had to remove her from a store for throwing a tantrum. Several times I remember carrying out of a store while she screamed, "Ow! Ow! Ow! You're HURTING me. You're HURTING me."
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Ever notice how this place just basically, well, sucks.
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