Saving my bank account, one pre-schooler at a time

My sister got me a gift card to Pottery Barn for my birthday late last year...and I finally made it to the store to wander around in bliss, breathing the smells and basking in the glow of their soft leather arm chairs and floral prints. These hopes were dashed, as I had Claire with me. Instead, my morning went something like this:

Claire, come over here. Come over here come over here come over here. Don't touch that. No, that's glass, don't touch the glass bunny, yes he's cute, don't touch him. Please don't lean against that mirror, OMG it costs over $300, DO NOT TOUCH that mirror. Do you want me to pick you up? I'm going to pick you up if you don't stay by me. Why did I not bring the stroller? Next time I'm bringing the stroller. You are so heavy. Okay, you can get down if you don't touch anything. No, you can't have those apples. Or the pears. Yes, they're pretty. Come here. Come here now. [Store clerk: Can I help you find something? Me: yes, do you have daycare?] Claire, don't go over there. That is not a toy. No glasses, yes they're pretty, no glasses no no, put it down. Get off the bed. No shoes on the bed, that's a white bedspread, do you see? Yes, those are shoe prints on the white bedspread. It's time to get down. Oh, pretty vase. No, you can't play with it. Put the flowers back. Come this way this way this way, I want to look at the clocks. See the pretty clocks? Come THIS WAY. No, don't go out the front door. Why is the front door wide open? Don't they realize that's a parking lot with cars out there? Stay inside. No, not in the display window. Get out of there, please. Be good, or no Mary Poppins on the way home.

And here I was, thinking it was a good thing we live so far away from Pottery Barn. Really, my checking account is saved by pre-schoolers.