the store

this is what it is like taking abigail to the grocery store:

we go inside and she makes a mad dash for either the "car carts" (with a car attached to the front end for kid-holding purposes), or those obnoxious little tiny carts for kids to push that are just the right height to hit parents in the back of the knees.

we negotiate the cart situation (no demon knee-killer carts!) and compromise on the car cart, which has the turning radius of two semis linked together.

abigail sees the fruit display and immediately jumps out of the car cart, thereby negating the purpose of the thing.

"Mommy! I wan some green apples! No, red! Ok, less get some one, two, free, five, thirteen green apples...no red!"

We get five red apples.

Abigail grabs a couple of bags of mini carrots and throws them into the cart. She knows we like carrots.

I tell her we need potatoes next. She zings across the aisle and starts trying to throw handfuls of loose red potatoes into the cart. I quickly grab a bag and ask her if she would please get into her little cart. She turns a woebegone face up to me and says "No, Mommy, I such a good helper, please?"

So I just hold out the bag and let her put the potatoes in.

Our grocery store gives out free cookies to little kids. The pumpkin chocolate-chip cookie they have on offer today is greeted with much joy and cries of "Yes, thank you!" and then to me "Look, Mommy, my friend gave me cookie!"

It keeps her occupied for less than two minutes, then it's carefully placed on the seat of the car and she's off again, chocolate smeared all over her face.

This time she runs for the lobster tank (we've made our way over to the meats/fish area). She watches the lobsters crawl around on each other, and then sees some fish and cries delightedly "Look, Mommy, Nemos!" just as the sushi man brings down his cleaver.

We walk away really fast to look at the display of ground beef.

On our way down another aisle, she sees a bottle of poppyseed dressing and tries no less than five times to get it into the cart while I'm comparing the fat content of different types of mayonnaise. Sneaky little beast. It's her favorite, but we don't buy it anymore because it makes her face break out in a rash.

Our next stop of note is in the spice aisle, where I pause to check out the pre-Thanksgiving sales and restock my spice cupboard. Abigail gleefully seizes the opportunity to frolic among a myriad of small bottles and boxes, and informs me "I wanna get a hot, ok? We almost all gone at our house."

I look down and see her fingers wrapped tightly around a bottle of red pepper flakes...a "hot," sure enough! I realize that she's right, we do need more, so we add it to the cart. Abigail really likes this idea and starts adding more to the cart...it's only with a lot of persuasion that I get her to put it all back. I tell her it's time to go get some cheese.

She runs out of the spice aisle, singing to her "hot" and saying "hi!" brightly to the five people she encounters on her way, each of whom pause their carts to look after her and say "Oh, how cute!" which means a roadblock that seriously delays me in following her. By the time I catch up, she has an enormous package of American cheese (which we never buy) in hand and tells me "All done getting some cheeses, Mom!"

We exchange it for a few other varieties (we have a spirited debate about whether we will or won't get the Mr. Incredible kind of string cheese), and she bounces over to a display of potato chips. I tell her no chips, and she grabs one and runs for it. Much as my tastebuds (but not my waistline) would rejoice in the chips, I call after her "Those are yucky chips!" and she stops, horrified, to look at them. She turns around, comes racing back, and drops them back in their place, brushing her hands and saying "Yucky! Yucky! So yucky!"

She's well-trained. Heh heh.

I stop to get some eggs ("eggies boring, Mommy, I go find milks!).

She occupies herself with the blood pressure screening machine while I finish up in the adjoining aisle (she gets scared when the cuff tightens) and then solemnly informs me we need some "lossa lossa ice cream."

We wend our way to the checkout aisle, where she says "Yucky, yucky, yucky!" to each display of candy bars (somehow this connection did NOT extend to thinking her Halloween candy was yucky, oddly enough).

My "I so good helper, I put foods on the counter so buy dem take home and eat" and I load all our groceries onto the conveyor belt. Abigail occupies herself in covering her clothes with the stickers the bagger hands to her, and then we head out for the really fun part...putting all our groceries away at home, where we throw each plastic bag onto the floor so it makes a big pile and we can slip-n-slide all around the kitchen to amuse ourselves.

On the way home, Abigail regales me with a story about going to the grocery store "with my Papa, I ride the horsie and the car" and then tells me "it Papa birthday, so we sing him and wear party hats, ok?" and we sing Happy Birthday the rest of the way home.

So Dad, if you come visit, we've got your party hat all ready.