But I Have to Take My Hat

Here's how I know I'm crazy: I let my son do things like take a cowboy hat to the grocery store without even questioning his motives.  I prefer to make up my own innocent and unrealistic justifications in my mind, which (if you haven't noticed) usually doesn't work out well for me.  (See Toddler Takeover or Late-Night Visitor for further evidence of my delusions.)

So in my mind, this is how the cowboy-hat-at-the-grocery-store-saga was going to unfold:  Gavin would take the cowboy hat in the car.  He would wear it on his head for about five minutes.  Then, he would grow bored and discard the hat.  Once we got to the grocery store, he would completely forget the hat existed, and we would be on our merry way to buy some Poptarts and frozen waffles sans hat.  (To be completely honest, my grocery store delusions always include this scene where Gavin walks next to the cart, selects the items I kindly request off of the shelf, and places them ever-so-gently in the basket.  Oh, and there's butterflies and fairies and puppies and rainbows and smiling strangers commenting on how polite and sweet and kind my kid is.)

Well, our grocery shopping trip actually went something like this:

Just wrangling up some ground beef.

Yep, he wore the hat the entire time.  Every last second.  He wore it in the car, in the parking lot, through the frozen foods aisle, and even the toilet paper aisle! And, just to add more emphasis I suppose, he continually yelled the following statements as I carelessly tossed items into the cart:

Ride like the wind, Bullseye!

There's a snake in my boot!

Somebody poisoned the waterhole!

Me?  I just smiled at the people snickering, pointing, and gawking, and pretended like I was oh-so-thankful to have Sheriff Woody there to escort me on my shopping adventure.  I mean, Meijer can be dangerous, you know.

Still, I couldn't figure out the hat.  Usually, he asks to bring things like action figures, cars, or even juice on our grocery shopping trips, but never a hat - especially a cowboy hat.  But, as we finished checking it out, it started to become very clear to me what his motivation for the hat was:

Aha!  I get it now!

Really?  All this because you wanted to wear the hat while you rode the penny horse?  Huh.  Interesting.  And then you don't even look like you're enjoying yourself or having fun as the pony slowly totters back and forth at a pace that would only give a snail motion sickness?  

Oh, kids.  They sure do some funny shit.  (P.S. I don't mean funny shit as in shit shit.  Actual shit is rarely funny (and by "rarely" I mean as long as it's not my kid or my dog).  If you don't believe me, read this:  Wait, He Did What?)  In the meantime, I'll be bracing myself to be taking that cowboy hat to the store every time we go.