Sweet Smell of Ikea

Sunday was errand day. With just the girls, I thought it would be a snap.

Wasn’t that a cute thought?

Hudson’s last minute invitation to a buddy’s house left me with this ~

“Time for my A-game.”

With a to-do list 4 days long, my tactics didn’t exactly start strong.

Me: I guess if you’re going to cry, we’ll take back those fancy wedding shoes you just got. (*yeah right, you can just go barefoot in Aunt Jen’s 5-star wedding…)

Louder.

“I got her right where I want her.”

Me, with finger pointed (sad but true): SERIOUSLY Raleigh stop right now. I am not spending my day with a crying girl who…..INSERT CHARLIE BROWN TEACHER VOICE HERE…

Louder with added shriek and shoulder shrug.

“I own her.”

I blared music.

I took deep breaths.

I video’ed her. (hence the above photos. We’ve had some previous car ride debacles where the video has proven helpful on many levels.)

As the third born, Raleigh learned early on she often gets what she wants. Everyone is too busy. She knows the game. And she plays it very well. She is determined. She doesn’t blink in staring contests.

Finally, exhausted, I was thinking out loud.

Me: Should we have lunch at Ikea or Target? 

Raleigh, totally normal voice: Target. Ikea’s food smells funny.

Stunned, I rolled with it. We dissected her dislike of the smell of Swedish fast food. We chatted about the pros of Target’s selections.

A simple distraction. A thought she could sink her teeth into. That easy.

Sometimes that’s all we need to back out of our dark place. A tasty thought shift. A focus on the bottom of Maslow’s pyramid.

As we entered Ikea hand-in-hand, I took special notice of the smell.

It was kind of funny.