Every man for himself

The time is 5:30 pm and the local nursery closes in 30 minutes. As I try to find a cart that has safety straps on it for my wiggly daughter, a huge Zamboni-like floor cleaning machine wizzes by. My Baby Shmear freaks out and runs after me, clinging to my leg. I calm him down, the machine goes away, and we continue our search for a cart with straps. The dreaded floor-cleaning monster returns and sends Matthew rocketing towards me screaming in fear. Poor baby boy! Through his sobs I ask him if he'd rather ride in the cart instead of walking. "Uh-huh!" he blubbers. Screw his sister getting hurt, a man has to look after himself first ya know. I guess chivalry is officially dead.