Let me run through today's shopping trip for you. It's a gives a good sense of a typical day.
I'm now down to two shopping buddies with Joseph at school all day. I try to keep my stops under three, because after that, things get hairy.
Sprouts is first. Benny has not sat in a shopping car for two and-a-half years, because that's when Olivia began sitting up, and the seat was hers. Now, Olivia no longer wants to sit in the shopping cart. So both of them get underfoot and insist on reaching for fruit too high for them, and slamming it into the thin plastic bags when they do get it. My fruit is always bruised and I wander around the store repeating, "Gently. Gently. Gently!" Today was a switch up, because they hopped. And they chanted. So picture my darling children, both holding toy hammers. One was in an orange construction vest he insisted on wearing, hopping through the store and chanting, "Apples! Apples! Apples!" In their loudest voices.
Most of the patrons were polite enough to ignore us. One woman, who probably couldn't help herself, bent over her shopping cart she was laughing so hard. For some reason I felt like I owed her some sort of explanation; verification I was a good mother.
"They haven't had any sugar. I'm really careful how much I give them." I stopped. How was I going to finish that statement? This is all natural? Be glad I'm so diligent, because they could tear this place apart with their bare hands? I just walked away and left her to her laughing.
Next stop: Sam's Club. On sample day no less. There are times I'm really surprised by Benny's dexterity and hand eye coordination. You should see him snatch the samples off of those ladies little carts. It's like a cobra strike. The hummus on pita chips threw him though. He stared at the hummus smeared on his hand like it was poop. And instead of wiping it on the napkin in his hand, he wiped it on her cart. That'll teach her to put disgusting hummus on chips.
The cheese was my favorite. Benny is very picky about the type of cheese he eats. This doesn't stop him from trying new things though. He wasn't familiar with cheese encased in red wax, and only after attempting to eat it, wax and all, did he ask for help. He took one bite and while I was unwrapping Olivia's he wedged the remnants of it underneath my shopping cart wheel. As I wheeled away leaving a streak of cheese in my wake he was polite enough to inform me.
"You ran over it, Mom."
This is usually the point when I surrender. It doesn't matter what is left on my shopping list. It's time to go home. We'll have cereal for dinner if we have to.
At some point I'll stop asking this question, but I guess I'm not ready to give up yet. Maybe I don't know when I'm beat.
"I didn't like it."
Is there someone out there who can explain this reasoning to me? Anyone?