I love to shop at Walmart. It's one of my all time favorite stores to go to, mostly I think it's because I'm a lazy shopper and love going to a place where I can buy batteries and tampons, a cd of my favorite music and diapers all in the same spot.

Now I love taking the kids shopping with me. I am a total toy freak! I can't help it, but I am. And having boys means I get to collect things, like Disney cars, Cool Hot Wheels, Tech decks and more.

DH hates it because it is always the first place I go and it's usually the only place I allow the kids to touch things. I mean who isn't a ToysrUs kid, right?

Though I don't think it's so much that I look at the toys for hours on end as much as it's what I do with them after.

So today we were out shopping and I was browsing through the Transformer section in search for those little RPM cars. They look like Hot Wheels and Pickleboy loves playing with them because he doesn't have to actually transform them. Thank God, too, because all that does is cause tantrums to no end. With these little car he can just play with them like all his other cars and pretend he's a Transformer, like Prime or Bumblebee.

So there we are searching through the toys. The boys are helping me look, when I hear DH say to Pickleboy...

"Put that back where it belongs."

Pickleboy drops the toy he was holding and shakes his head with an infinitive "NO", refusing to put the toy back on the shelf.

Now here is where I am going to hell.

Because you see I'm a dropper shopper.

You know the kind of shopper who picks things up looks at them, even puts them in the cart, only to decide later I don't want it and I put it back on the nearest aisle I'm in for some poor clerk to put away later.

Ya that's me.

I know... I know... and I wish I could tell you that I feel some pent up guilt over doing this but I just can't. I've been doing it for years and despite working in the retail industry and customer service field for years. I still can't bring myself to run all the way back to the aisle I picked the item up from to return it to it's proper origin.

DH: "Honey we aren't teaching the boys anything by letting them do this. They should put things back after they look at them."

Okay he's right, but frankly it's eight o'clock and already past their bedtime and we are still shopping when they should be at home in bed. So now is not the time to squabble over parenting skills.

I told Pickleboy to just leave the toy where it was and we proceeded on our way, much to DH's disgust who snuck behind me to go back and put the toy back where it belonged. He's a little OCD that way and has to have things in order.

Anyhoo as our shopping trip continued; I watched as both my boys picked up things and then dropped them, much as I was doing. By the end of the evening I thought DH was going to have a heart attack; running all over the store to return all the items we'd dropped along the way. Shit, he should have had on a Walmart smock for all the work he'd done lol.

Me: "What is the matter with you?" I said to him when he returned to the check out, huffing and puffing.

DH: "Me? What is wrong with you?" He cried. "You are the one teaching them to drop stuff as we shop.

Me: "I'm a dropper shopper, honey."

He knew this when he married me and besides I did not see what the big deal was. They had a ton of people wandering through the store for just this job, to pick up the shit stuff I'd--uh (accidentally) put down somewhere else.

DH rolled his eyes at me, shaking his head. "Okay but this is going to come back and bite you in the ass butt," he warned.

Whatever... I waved my hand at him. I wasn't worried.

We got home just shortly after ten o'clock, wayyyyyyyyyyyy past the boys bed time. I scooted them in the house, after they helped carry stuff in, and I told them to go and brush their teeth and get their jammies on.

A few minutes later DH was downstairs when I'm sure he thought someone had bludgeoned me to death with the way I screamed. Girly and high pitched, you know the sound right?

He came running up the stairs to find me in our bedroom standing over our bed, turning into an anger ball at the sight of three buckets of toys dumped all over our bedspread.

"What is this?" I cried. "Look at this mess!"

Hockeydude, being the smart kid he was immediately left the scene to get into his own clean bed. A bed NOT filled with toys, since he hadn't really played with toys since he was eight.

The toys belonged to Pickleboy who just stood there before me perplexed as to what the trouble was to be causing his mother such horrific grief.

"Trace, honey. You have to put these away. These don't belong here." I said to him.

PB: "No I don't," he replied frankly.

Me: "Excuse me?" I asked him.

The nerve of this little monster to tell me he didn't have to fix this mess. DH said nothing at this moment. Though it was--one of those moments you just know are going to turn around on you and put egg on your face (whatever that means).

PB: "I'm a toy dropper mama!"

Then he turned and skipped out of the room like there was a rainbow waiting for him on the other side of the door with a pot of Gold.

I turned to DH, fuming. He still said nothing, but donned a thick "I told you so" smile upon his unshaven face that rang bells.

"Don't say it!" I told him with frustration and I began picking up the toys. It was my fault. I knew that. And my ass could feel the teeth marks setting in.

If you participate in Trashy Thursday which is a way to show off your 'not so' parenting moments which we all have whether we like to admit them or not. Then head on over to White Trash Mom and post your link there. Also please leave me a comment as I love to get them and will be your friend, at least for today!