Hail to you, you budget conscious, spontaneous, disorganised and lazy shopper, who without you putting tomatoes back in the DIY section of the supermarket, because you’ve spotted a jigsaw at a bargain price, I would forget half of what I went shopping for.
The cubs are with me for this week; I’ve managed to score some time off work. Early crossed wires means that the ex and I cross paths at 60 mph in the countryside. A quick phone call and we make the switch in a near lay by
It feels a little like espionage, but we haven’t seen each other in what seems like an age, so its fine. Off we pop home, with a brief stop to get some groceries first.
I think that it’s important for the cubs to understand the shopping process, so away we go.
I never learn
First things first, back to the car for my bags for life. I pat myself on the back as I usually remember them at the checkout.
The first squabble begins; they both want to push the trolley. Last time I allowed it, one was involved in a near fatal collision with a pensioner. Unfortunately I couldn’t remember which one of them it was.
He gets first go. She wants a cuddle and to hold hands anyway. He can’t really see over the top of the cart but this does nothing to curb his enthusiasm. Or pace.
Most collisions are averted by gentle nudging and one, timely kick. He loses interest as we get to the escalator and abandons it at the bottom.
She needs a couple more tops. I acquiesce, as everything I buy seems to disappear but hey, you already know my thoughts on that one. He attempts to get me to buy him a bra, and breaks down in tears when I tell him not right now. A kind assistant places it back on the rack for me.
He’s in flight of freedom mode and stays at least half an aisle ahead. The store isn’t busy so I allow it. Now she wants to push the trolley.
Being a toddler, this immediately reignites his interest in the trolley so squabbles begin again.
“DAD! HE’S GRABBING THE SIDE OF THE TROLLEY AND THROWING THE HANDLING OFF!”
Welcome to my world.
Be good or no-one will push.
“Then how will it move?”
She’ll go far that one.
Weariness finds me quickly. We’ve only reached the bread aisle.
Croissants or Pain au Chocolat? I ask. Not the most challenging of questions.
No answer. I ask again.
‘Can we have kippers? we haven’t had kippers in ages!’
When was that an option??
Would you like croissants or pain au chocolat???
As it transpired, he wanted one, she wanted the other, so we ended up with both. She was quick to point this out. We also got kippers.
I’m starting to forget stuff; I haven’t made a list. I end up backtracking down an aisle. As all men know, this is just wrong. We shop like snipers. This is a tell-tale sign that I’m worn..
I then accidentally turned down the crisp and biscuits aisle.. big mistake…
I tried to reverse before they noticed. I didn’t make it..
They’re off like locust; scattering innocent bystanders as they go.
“CAN WE HAVE THESE DADDY?” times one million
My kung fu skills kick in and I’m throwing sugar out of the trolley faster than they can put it in.
I’m done; they’re giggling like crazy and I’m trying hard not to show that I’m done. A nearby couple are chuckling. Their children are probably grown up.
I’m bent over my trolley, contemplating how lucky I am.