It must be hard to be a little kid.
One minute, you're pissed off that you didn't get to use the astronaut scale at the grocery store so you dilly dally walking to the car by climbing up the concrete benches and then wrapping your arms around the concrete pillars holding up the awning and then shimmying up, UP, UP.
You're ignoring your mother, who keeps nagging you about staying close in the parking lot because she obviously doesn't understand a single thing about you and keeps blathering on about a hungry sister and ice cream thawing and needing a shower before work. Totally unreasonable, you think, I just need to climb up this pillar to see what happens, sheesh.
And then your annoying little brother tries to climb up the pillar behind you because he does everything you do, even if he can't, but he's standing on the bench below you trying to figure out how to get up on the pillar.
And you feel annoyed, because of the astronaut scale and because you're tired and because your brother is so loud and insistent and you're a little bored because grocery shopping is stupid.
So you think, what will happen if I just sort of...
And then your mom's eyes start to get really big.
....sort of push my brother a leeeeeeetle bit...
And then she abandons the cart and starts walking fast.
....sort of, push him off the bench onto the concrete...
OH COOL NOW SHE IS RUNNING AND YELLING AND MY BROTHER IS CRYING
And then you think to yourself, I am AWESOME. LOOK AT MY POWER. I WIN!
But then you get roughly put into your car seat and your brother is the one who gets an ice pack and juice when you get home.
Being five is a drag, man.