Not even with a map in hand
Today was a dress the family up and head off to a restaurant outing, in keeping with the Mothers’ Day motif. We phoned around for a bit and finally found a place that would be able to seat us before we started robbing the dog’s stash, and so we put her in charge of barking at passersby and loaded up the van. I won’t mention the name of the restaurant, but for those who know the area, all the waitresses wear ridiculous headpieces made from starched lace.
We arrived at the mall where our meal would be served; in passing, are there far too many malls around here, or is there a lack of available rental space for restaurants. I know that we were able to park easily, so that’s worth something, and we made our way through the mall interior with the help of a map that we found inside the entrance.
After all the details were taken care of (eating, paying, etc.) we started the trip home, and this is where things degenerated. One son went left, the rest of us went right, following our crumb trail back to the door we came in through less than two hours earlier. Small detail, the mall was now closed, and when we arrived at the doors, son the leftist was outside, looking in (and laughing at us).
We’re still cool, things like that happen, and we started retracing our route. Once again, one son went left and we went right. Around the whole mall, finding only locked doors until we made it back to the entrance. In keeping with the game we seem to be playing, sons are together outside, looking in (and laughing at us).
The humour is degrading, but with shouted directions, we head down to a lower level and begin, once again, to investigate the (securely locked) status of the loading docks, instant teller cabinet, food court and several other corridors. Finally we stumble upon a set of electrified doors that tried to trap our remaining child against a wall and make our way into a huge underground garage, where the other two jolly children have found their lost family. Total time elapsed to escape from the maze: twenty-seven minutes.
My studies in psychology show that we could reduce that time in future by training. Water deprivation and electrified doors, I seem to recall. Well, we have the perfect Skinner box for those who dare to go to restaurants and want to return home again.
