Right before Christmas, I took the kids (and the dog, because I'm smoking crack) to Petsmart. You know, because it's so freakin' fun to shop with your dog and three kids. At least, it looks like fun on the commercials. Truth in advertising? Nah.

Although come to think of it, all the people cavorting in the aisles of Televised Petsmart are either double-income no kids with pedigreed dog they paid more than my first car for, or exist only in a Televised Pet's dream sequence. There are no kids in Petsmart commercials! If I had paid closer attention, I would have seen the light!

Anyway...smoked some crack (kidding, Mom) and loaded up the van. Part of the fun of going to Petsmart, apparently, is watching your dog go nuts and try to make friends with all the other people's dogs. You know, all the other people who have brought their mongrel junkyard dogs to Petsmart, lured by the same commercial showing happy pet owners and glossy coated dogs gliding down aisles together.

The reality involves a lot more butt-sniffing and barking and growling, a few attempted humpings and a few doodies. There are lots of stressed pet owners trying to achieve traction on the slick floors as their dogs strain at their fancy pants leashes trying to pee on the end display. Everyone looks around, baffled, trying to see if anyone else is having a good time. From the looks of it? No.

My children love to visit the mice and the hamsters and the rats and the birds and the lizards and the fish (I'm SO never paying to go to the aquarium again. We have killed hours ooing and ahhing over guppies and bulging eyed goldfish. Hours!) so we dutifully make the rounds, while the dog whines and strains at her collar and tries her best to get us moving towards that other dog over there, who has an as of yet unsniffed butt.

Fun. For the whole family. Yeah.

At one point, we were watching the mice. There had to be 30 mice in this one 12" by 12" glass box, and most of them were crammed into a little plastic igloo like sardines. The exit/entrance tunnel was a squirming mass of fur (gave me the heebies) and they all seemed to be trying to get to the center of the pile. I was all, dudes - get out of there! You're all going to suffocate! Stupid mice.

Outside the seething masses, there were a few groups of mice who were running in exercise wheels. One mouse would get the wheel going, and then another one would jump on, and then a third, and then while one was running, another would hold on and do a 360. Ha! And then they'd take turns doing it! Over the top! Whee! Ha!

The kids and I were mesmerized (and the dog was frustrated beyond belief) while we watched these circus mice doing their weird, funny trick. "Mommy! We need those!" said my daughter. "Yeah!" said my son. Did I mention that my children are spoiled and feel confident that they can ask for damn near anything? Except vermin, because I am not down with that. Even if they can do 360s.

So, yeah. The pleading was Oscar worthy, but still I was unmoved. We left in a sonic cloud of whining and teeth gnashing, dog included.

As I watched my children play this evening, I patted myself on the back. My sister (she of the karaoke machine) gave my youngest one of those crawl-through cloth tunnels. As I watched my three kids squirming around in a pile inside the tunnel, I thought, dude! Get out of there! You're going to suffocate yourselves. Stupid kids.

And then I thought: Hmm, I wonder where I can get one of those wheels?