I better start this one by saying that, yep, all this stuff happened. My two and a half feet of wisdom could not make this mountain of disaster up…
Mommy and her long list took us to the grocery store and once we went through those magic doors that open when my little self enters, Mommy’s list got short, Daddy, real short. First that fancy car cart was not so fancy ’cause it only had one seat belt. One seat belt for no kids who will sit still is bad news.
|Our ride, sans us, for some reason Mommy could not get a blog-worthy pic|
Mommy put the strap for holding-you-down-so-you-can’t-join-the-party on lucky old me. Parker got to drive and Ms. Fancy Pants Kenna sat her happy self on the floor. Not the floor of our cart, the floor of the dirty-as-a-potty ground. You know her, wanted her own cart and wasn’t budging ’til she got it. Mommy fed her that “special treat” nonsense she dangles over our heads whenever we go somewhere and lucky for our grocery list she bought it, and started pushing me and Parker’s car, all fakey nice, like she was going to be the perfectest sister the rest of our trip.
Since my crib is calling my name, I better skip a couple aisles, tantrums, getting-in-and-out-of-the-carts and put-that-backs and get down to the good stuff.
Now picture us in the milk section, Daddy…
Pretty much no one was in the cart (except my legs, one, two if Mommy was lucky) and by now one of the Crazy amongst us was carrying an apple with squoosh spots and a bite out of it, a deck of cards and wearing her rainbow jello, I was trying (with decent success I must say) to climb out the dashboard of my car, Mommy was catching me and squishing me back in with her hair all crazy in her face while she was blocking our basket with one leg so Kenna couldn’t throw anymore juices in, when she remembered the other piece of our Crazy. Lucky she looked between her yellow hairs that minute because she almost missed an amazing feat. Parker, my idol of carnival proportion stunts, was hard at work. Stacking and stacking breads and standing on them real good so they smushed so nice and then getting more and more and more, ’cause that coffee cream on the top shelf was calling his name, I heard it. (You drink coffee when you are three? Can’t wait. I think I’ll take mine black, or maybe double sugar, double breast milk? Hmmm, decisions.). Well, either way, I don’t have to tell you that Mommy shut down his side show which set off fireworks of the Parker kind. (We will never truly know what that boy can accomplish.)
In the middle of our show, a lady was watching us with her lips white-together. Mommy said, “I’m sure you wish you were me right now” (I think she was being snarkastic, Ms. Jill) and that lady just asked Mommy to hand her a cream. Mommy wanted to tell her where she could put her cream but she bited her tongue for my baby ears.
So things got even better at check out. For the Crazies, not for me… totally strapped in at this point, just here for the show I guess. Those silly store people put those shiny Easter egg candies right where three year-olds could reach and Mommy could barely unload the cart ’cause those eggs were a rollin’ and a flyin’. Oh and the apple from aisle whatever that was? Kenna dropped it when she was blocking Mommy from pulling chocolate eggs out of her mouth, Parker kicked it to me, my car made the save and Mommy had even more to pay her money for.
And for the grand finale, because there is one, of course…
Mommy put Parker back in the car with me and as one last goodbye, he waved out my window and then, hold on to your seat Daddy…
threw his perfectly detached steering wheel out the other window (so we could watch it roll away at that man getting the baskets, of course). That boy, I tell you, he never disappoints. Never!
Oh and Daddy, we forgot your Coke but don’t worry, Mommy says we are going back when hell freezes over so we’ll get it then.
Love the only one who can’t unbuckle his grocery car seatbelt,
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