Miranda Fair – now aalled Westfield Miranda. They’ve gone all fancy pants with classy stores and stylish new cafes. But what they can’t change is the kiddie clientele. Kids don’t do fancy. They don’t do classy. Well at least mine don’t.
So when I stupidly decided to take both kids to Westfield Miranda during peak hour with the idea that I could visit Seed for some retail therapy and The Shed for a relaxed coffee I think I must have been a walking ‘Mombie-Zombie’ because it was never going to work.
Queue meltdown number one.
The car park, before we even enter the shops. Because Miss Independence wants to take her seatbelt off herself. Meanwhile toddler is already out of his seat and cars are driving around everywhere. Cramming Miss Independence in the stroller, she’s kicking and screaming because she didn’t get to let herself out of the car seat. People look at us.
Queue meltdown number two.
“The stairs are moving Mummy.” We know what they are. We’ve been on them a million times. But today was the day that the escalators were out to kill my son (apparently). A moderate number of observers – Joy.
Queue meltdown number three.
Before we get into Seed the toddler decides to blow raspberries on their nice clean glass windows. I get ‘the look’ from the shop assistants and its code for ‘don’t you dare come in here with those kids’. OK, looks like we won’t be shopping at Seed.
Queue meltdown number four.
Supermarkets are evil. Not only with all the junk food they sell being so cheap but also the fact that all that crap food is toddler height. So we walk through the fruit section and the kids are super excited about grapes until of course.. they see the chupa chips. I’m sure you can imagine what happened here. Fun. This time there are loads of observers.
Queue meltdown number five.
I need a coffee. I need a coffee. I need a coffee. So I lock the suckers in the stroller and give them a bag of rice crackers while I order. But right when I attempt to be handed my coffee (while trying to manoeuvre a double stroller) the toddler throws a toy car and knocks my coffee right out of my hand. I don’t know if I should scream or cry. EVERYONE is looking. I apologise and hand the lady $10 to make up for the mess.
So I zip into Myer kids room (yes they have a hidden room) and choose to have a quick cry before pulling myself together.
It’s at this point I give up and go home.
Lesson learned (the hard way).
Tell us ladies – what’s your biggest and best meltdown at Miranda? We’d love to hear so that we don’t feel alone.