So what are their names?

Moe, Larry and Curly.

Peter, Paul and Mary.

Joe Bob, Billy Bob and Bobby Bob. 

Four times today. I  didn’t even want to go to Walmart. I had a gift card. And I was stopped, mid stride more times than I can count. One woman literally stepped out in front of me and I almost crashed into her with my double stroller. Why do people do this? And FOUR people asked me what the girls’ names are. 

I’m actually looking forward to the frigid temperatures in winter. Why? Because I can hang a blanket over the stroller so no one can see who or what is inside. 

Trust me when I say that I’m not at Walmart for the attention. I’m not there to seek your approval. Or find out what you think of my girls’ outfits or their names.  I’m not there to dilly dally. I want to get the fricken milk and bread and toilet paper so we can make it through the week and get my @$$ home before it’s time for someone to eat or nap. 

If I didn’t HAVE TO go out, I really wouldn’t. You try taking three kids under the age of two to the store. 

I. Just. Want. To. Go. Home. 

I would never ever attempt to satisfy my curiosity by asking personal questions of someone I never met. Who does that? Oh right, everyone that shops when I do. 

So what are their names?

None of. 


F*cking business. 


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