An open letter

To all grocery stores, thrift stores, toy stores, and drug stores which I have visited with Corin in tow recently:

I hereby apologize to all employees for having left your store in more disarray than when I entered it. Whether it was a basket full of books and toys just left in the aisle during a cuticle emergency, a Barbie fishing pole tucked by the skateboards that belonged halfway across the store, or a collection of cheeses stacked high in no particular order, I have failed to curb Corin's enthusiasm for indiscriminate shopping, hoarding, and crafting of his environment.

Sure, I start out well enough, sliding the box of pasta back into its place as he scampers back into the fire-truck-themed cart-cab, or racking Matchbox cars back on the pegs as he moves on to a light-up phone, or tossing the bag of pastel M&Ms just back into the toddler-sized plastic M&M-character display.

But at some point he always gets the upper hand, like a tossing a flaming baton to a juggler when he's still getting the rhythm of the bowling pins. There's gonna be carnage. I'm just sorry to have to pick up the pieces.

Sincerely,
Mystery guest