Today was grocery day. I usually try to go by myself (anyone with toddlers knows the joys of grocery shopping with them); but, my husband thinks it's a fun family outing. So, after taking the usual precautions (pre-shopping pizza, snacks for the store, toys ...), we headed out for our adventure.
I used to praise the genius of the person who invented those toddler-sized shopping carts that make toddlers feel grown up and helpful in the store. Now, not so much. Each cherub immediately requested a cart of her own. About two aisles into shopping, Cakes started running into canned goods and into my ankles. When I told her to stop, we had an instant meltdown that continued throughout our hurried trip through the store. I carried a screaming Cakes, Bean pushed one miniature cart, and Big Daddy hunched over the other miniature cart like Magilla Gorilla.
After a while, Cakes started gagging from all her screaming, and that was when we were bum-rushed by a seemingly endless stream of elderly women, offering an hysterical Cakes everything from candy to toys to money in an effort to quell the dry heaving screams. Nothing was effective, of course, and I ended up going out to the truck with Cakes while Big Daddy stayed in the store, buying bags of lollipops (aka "suckers," to the Southerners) and Skittles for Bean, the non-screaming cherub.
I know that the "polite" thing to do when your cherubs begin shrieking in a public place is to exit that public place. But, we live in the middle of nowhere. It took us half an hour to get to the grocery store, and I'm not about to waste my time and gas money. I'm getting my groceries, darn it!
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