TRIP TO THE GROCERY STORE

I took MEB to the grocery store with me this morning. I can't describe how much I dislike this task. I don't like going shopping anyway and to have to navigate through it with a two-year old makes the job twice as hard. This, then, is compounded by the grocery list I take, much of which is formulated by my wife. Large grocery stores are complex warehouses of consumerism. There are so many choices. What's the difference between Yoplait and Dannon Yogurt? The yogurt on my list says Dannon and in parenthesis says (fruit on bottom). In the open-refrigeratated yogurt section of the store all the containers look the same. They are small so the lettering is difficult to read. I struggled with finding the exact kind of yogurt requested in the past so chose to not buy any. However, by a stroke of luck I noticed Dannon Yogurt With Fruit on the Bottom right away. I was estatic until I realized I had to choose which kind of fruit: Strawberry, cherry, banana? I went with strawberry.

When I go to the store it is inevitable that I won't find everything on the list or run of out time (and patience) to search for it. Today the items I didn't get were: Dental Floss, pancake mix, and some kind of pellets that you can put in your garbage disposal so it doesn't smell. I must confess that I decided beforehand that I wasn't going to even look for these and instead just get a lemon and grid it up in the disposal. That usually does the trick. However, I forgot to get the lemon.

At the store MEB insists on pushing the cart. Of course, she isn't strong enough to do it so I have to help. After about ten minutes she tires of this and it is between riding in the cart or me carrying her. She will ride in the cart for about ten minutes and then insists that I carry her. So, for much of our trip to the store I'm carrying a two-year old in one arm and pushing a shopping cart with the other. This, by itself, is difficult, but then have to search the giant store for items that I don't know the location of. The signs that hang at the ends of each aisle give little assistance especially when your trying to find such unique products such as pankcake mix, fruit snacks, or tiny pellets that you put in your gargage disposal so it doesn't smell so bad.

At the check out counter I'm still holding MEB in my right arm. With my left, I empty my cart onto the black conveyer that ushers it to the clerk who immediately asks me "paper or plastic" (I always forget which one is better for the environment and at this point don't care). The clerk then asks if I have a Copp's Card (Which is attached to my key chain). I dig in my pocket to get my keys and locate the card amongst the others which now total more than the number of keys I have. The clerk swipes it and I save $5.00. I swipe my debit card to pay for the items and they are bagged (I ended up chosing paper) and placed in back in the cart. Still holding MEB (my arm is numb) I push the cart to my car, get MEB situated in her car seat and put the bags in the trunk.

I consider myself a man of the people and therefore usually feel obligated to return the cart to one of those outdoor holding areas. However, in this parking lot the holding area is at least twenty car lengths away and I already have MEB straped in the car. I could leave her for a few moments and run it over, but I worry that some do-gooder citizen will report it to Social Services and a Social Worker will show up at my front door a few hours later. So, I decide to compromise and leave the cart between the yellow parking stalls in such a way that it's presence won't prevent someone from parking in one of them.

We drive home and MEB is fussy and may be coming down with something. I assure her that we'll be home soon and glass of milk and the latest episode of Dora The Explorer await her. This does little to ease her frustration. When we get home I ignore the groceries in the trunk and get her inside. Thank goodness it is cooler today so the refrigerated products will stay cold enough until I get a chance to get MEB settled and collect myself.