Called the Apple store at 11:00 to see if they had any iPhones. Was told they had “lots” of all the different models, and to “come on down.” Called Mr. Squab and told him to meet us there. Got to Mall of America and saw line in front of store. Got in line, was told I was “lucky” because I was the last one to get a phone that day. What if I need two phones? “Oh, nope, sorry, we only have seven and you’re number seven.” Try to understand how seven constitutes “lots,” with no success. Meet Mr. Squab and tell him the deal. Try to go to food court for lunch so Hatchling can get chicken nuggets and fries, normally her all-time favorite meals. Hatchling has complete, total meltdown – the worst she’s ever had, by a long shot – in the food court, working herself up to the point where she could not eat or drink. Mr. Squab and I cram our food down (did I mention that I was insanely nauseated this morning?), pack up the Hatchling’s food, and carry a screaming, thrashing toddler out of the mall and back into the car. Mr. Squab goes back to work; the Hatchling and I go home, where she sits in her chair watching Sesame Street and eating her lunch like a perfectly normal child, and promptly puke in the garbage can.
Happy fucking Friday to me.