Adventures at Dollar Tree

We met my husband for lunch yesterday. As we were leaving, here is the conversation that took place: a conversation that would later cause me to suffer temporary insanity.

Him: "Are you going anywhere else?"
Me: "Why?"
Him: "I need a squirt bottle for work. Like a ketchup or mustard bottle."
Me: "They probably have some at the dollar store. Want me to check?"
Him: "If you want to."

So off we went, Big Brother, Baby Jaws and myself. While at the dollar store, our conversation continued by way of texting.

Me: They don't have any squirt bottles.
Him: No mustard or ketchup bottles at all? That sucks.
Me: Nope.
Him: Dang it.

A few minutes later, ready to pull my hair out...
Me: Big Brother just knocked over a giant display of glow in the dark fairy wands.
Him: That's funny.
Me: No, it wasn't.

A few more minutes later, holding onto my bald spot...
Me: Big Brother just let a balloon go and the air vent sucked it half way across the store. Oh, this child!

And after all that, all I ended up with was a little less hair and a toy four-wheeler made in China which, for all I know, has already been recalled because it contains lead paint or kryptonite or something else my darling, well-behaved child isn't supposed to play with. It would be my luck.