Shopping used to be so easy. My daughter Georgia would sit in the cart singing songs and pointing to bright colors. Now a simple trip to a department store has me wrestling not only with my own baser instincts, but also with hers.

Battles against the urge for the princess sneakers, the Barbie dolls, and child-eye-level candy in the checkout line have significantly decreased the frequency of our trips to the store. But the other day in a rainy traffic jam I pulled off the freeway, and, trying to get back the other way, I ended up smack in a Target parking lot. It had been a long and stressful day, and Georgia and I needed a bathroom and a break from the car.

Now I admit, I have a bit of a weakness in Target. My $5 toilet paper trip can easily become an $85 “need”-fest. So it’s a very good experiment for me to be there with Georgia because I can explain to her, and remind myself, about want and need and instant gratification versus stuff that’s going to make you happy for a long time. Of course, because she now knows about the toy aisle, there are many more teachable moments to be had. Many more than I could ever hope for.

We talked about what we needed in the store, made a list—a very short list of just a few items—and we went right to where we needed to go and picked our items out without much wandering.

And then Georgia asked to go to the toys. I told her yes, we could go and look at things and play a bit, but we wouldn’t be buying any new toys. She said, "Ohhhhkay," in the resigned “you’ve said that a million times” way she has, and then, almost immediately, she saw a globe. “Mommy! A globe! We’ve been meaning to get a globe!” It was true, we had been talking about it a lot, and it was a nice, educational Cram globe [1] on sale for $6.88. Even though we weren’t going to buy anything that wasn’t on our list, I said okay. She was so pleased with it, very excited to look up Africa (where she is going when she is ten, or maybe five), and it proved to be a great tool right there in the store.

When we got to the toy aisle, she immediately asked for a Lightning McQueen [2] stuffed plush car. I reminded her that we were getting the globe, which was really useful and something we had already planned to buy eventually, and that we had agreed we weren’t going to get any toys. She said, “Oh yeah, I forgot. I do want a globe.”

But she kept asking for more things, because it’s all so exciting and there’s so much and even princesses (!) and of course she wants it all. But then I had a great Mom Moment! I said, “Why don’t we write that down so we can remember what you want for your birthday.” She loved that idea, and I wrote it down. She went through the aisles asking me to write down things she wanted. This gave her a feeling of ownership without actually needing to own anything! And most of it was fine with me.

When it got a little too frenzied I pushed back a bit. “Do you think you really need two mechanical bubble blowers?” She countered, “I will give the frog one to Baxter for his birthday.” Reasonable enough, especially since it was all theoretical.

Then, “Now do you really want that plastic crown? I’m concerned that it’s just a pretty thing that will break easily, and not end up being much fun.”

She looked up at me pensively and said, “You’re right, Mommy. I can see how the joy derived from that little piece of plastic may not enrich my life, and since I already have a tiara I will rethink the importance of my desire for this especially sparkly, pink, foo-foo feather and rhinestone toy. I'll opt instead for this handmade educational rainforest puzzle.”

Okay, fine. She actually said, “I realllllly want it! it’s sooo pretty!” So I put it on the list. One little victory was enough for this shopping trip.