Electrical Tape Isn't Just for Wire: Sticking It to Them When They Stick It to You at Target

I admit. Pre-Critter I was one of those superior Mommies-to-be. You know, the one who won't turn on the TV, or feed junk foods, or Heaven forbid, allow their child to pitch a fit.

Fast forward til yesterday found me at the local Target, deeply engrossed in the mind numbing task of deciding whether or not the more expensive baby detergent is really worth the extra 3 bucks and if I don't dish out the dollars, does that indeed make me a Bad Mother. (Answers: no it is not, and maybe)

Then, the phone in my pocket began to ring. Critter's beady little eyes zeroed in on my right hip while I began to furiously run through my mental list of evasive maneuvers. The battle line had been drawn. He wanted the phone because the buttons beep and the screen lights up. I didn't want him to have it because he reprograms my emergency contact from Husband to the To Go phone at my favorite lunch spot. And while the craving for a dill tomato sandwich constitutes an emergency to me, I don't want the gum snapping teenager at the sandwich counter making any snap decisions regarding my vegetative state.

I pulled out the cell just as the call went to voicemail. Dang. Now he'd seen the thing and I didn't even get the chance to talk to the caller.

In my best Superior Mommy voice I told him "No, Critter. This is Mama's phone. Not a toy. You may play with your phone." I handed him his Playskool cell that calls some crazy cartoon duck and he deliberately dropped it to the floor while eyeing my LG.

At my firmest "No!" he reached out and intentionally smacked my phone to the floor. I could read the thought bubble above his demonic head: "If I can't have it, can't no body have it." The bubble even contained the eye cutting that I hadn't penciled into his schedule for another 14 years.

I retrieved the phone and stuck it back into my pocket. Seeing his favorite play thing disappear caused his bottom lip to began to jut out. Crud. I realized I had about .2 seconds until the sounds started. I hastily looked around for witnesses, hoping to find myself alone. No such luck. At Target in suburbia with a fit-pitching-baby, I'm just lucky my in-laws and pastor weren't hanging out by the aisle end cap.

As the wailing began I tried desperately to decide what I could do. My first thought was to book it to the school supply section and get some scotch tape to silence that fat lip and it's partner in crime. I wasted another valuable few seconds trying to decide if the store security guys would turn the surveillance tape into child protective services if I went with this option.

I admit. It wasn't the thought that I would be portrayed on every major news station across America as the nut-job-mouth-taping mommy that stopped me. It was the knowledge that scotch tape loses it's sticky within seconds of coming into contact with spit. Electrical tape holds much better.