Duh!

Taking a large brood of children to Target requires planning. I tempt them with the promise of a cookie (free over in the bakery) if I see good behavior. I strap Gabriel onto my back, put Luke in the cart seat and admonish the other three with the Prime Directive (Stay with Mommy!) We head into the store and are moving through the aisles with ease. No squabbling, things I need are on sale, all is good.

And then I realize Anna is not behind me. What? She was just with me in office supplies. I begin to shout for her and search the aisles. I find her two aisles over, staring straight ahead, frozen against the endcap with her arms in bent position.

I tap her on the shoulder. "Anna, why aren't you with Mommy?"

Anna turns, eyes incredulous, and says plaintively, "Mommy, don't you know? I'm a robot. I can only turn if you tap me on the shoulder and tell me how many steps to take. Duh!"

I explain that there is only one of me and five of them and I really need her to keep her eyes on me. Her lip pops out in a pout and she says, "Mommy, you can't blame me. The people at the factory made me this way. I'm just a robot."

O brother.