A Twist in Terror Tactics - a Valentine's Day Attack

As you may have read, venturing out with the baby terrorist can be a traumatic experience. I race through the grocery store aisles, frantically grabbing goods off the shelves and throwing anything and everything into my cart in fear that at any moment, there may be a meltdown of nuclear proportions. Once that cute little terrorist of mine starts the scream wind up, I am out of that store in thirty seconds flat. If we ever have to escape our house in the case of an emergency, I've got it covered. I have no problem leaving a cart full of groceries in the middle of the store, leaving a house full of belongings, a dressing room full of clothing as I sprint outside, the baby strapped to me like a live grenade.

But this Valentine's Day, everything changed.

Maybe it was the feeling of love all around, or the smell of chocolate permeating the air, but this time our trip to the grocery store was completely different. The sweet baby terrorist is now able to sit upright in the shopping cart. She had on a very cute, pink dress and a ridiculously adorable bow in her hair. As I pushed the cart through the store, I began to marvel at the fact that I was leisurely lingering in the aisles, consciously putting food into the cart without interruption or fear. Everything was going smoothly, so of course, I panicked. What was going on? Was this the calm before the storm?

And then I saw it. People were literally stopping and staring at the baby terrorist with hearts dancing in their eyes. All I could hear around me were ooh's and ahh's and oh look at the baby, look at the baby! Baffled, I looked around, certain there was an angelic baby somewhere in the vicinity and that mom was definitely getting the stink eye from me and my baby terrorist. Slowly, incredulously, I began to realize that these people were talking about my baby! I slowly turned to look at Bug and sure enough, there she was, smiling from ear to ear, showing off her two bottom teeth, eyes twinkling, looking like the cutest, most well behaved child in the world. She was smiling at each person who stopped to look at her, all "Hi! How ya doin'! Can you believe my mom calls me a baby terrorist? Got any chocolate?"

I'm not kidding. Men and women alike were stopping to talk to my baby, to let me know just how lucky I was to have such an adorable daughter.

No one noticed that I had actually found a spare second to put on some makeup and do my hair. I had on my Valentine's Day outfit, too, but next to the baby terrorist I was just the woman pushing the  throne to the pretty little princess who was busy perfecting her precocious grin for all to admire. There was not a person in that grocery store who thought that perhaps this little charmer had gotten half of her good looks from me, and clearly she has her daddy's ability to flash a grin and all is forgiven.

And then it hit me. I am no match for this baby terrorist. She is employing tactics that I can't even begin to combat. But I do know that for the patrons of this particular grocery store, she may just have been the catalyst for the creation of Valentine's Day baby terrorists, made with love and delusions of baby bliss.