My son has a delightful new habit. Well, he has lots of new habits, like asking a painfully drawn out “Whhyyy?” after I answer any of his questions, but although annoying at times, it doesn’t tend to get me into trouble. This other quirk, on the other hand, landed me some serious side eye at the grocery store.
We were out of bananas, cheese and yogurt. In our house, this is DEFCON Level: Extreme. If tiny dictator should look up and not see potassium packed fruits hanging from the rack, he will immediately ask for ‘a piece o cheese, please”. In the event that Mom has completely given up on maintaining a peaceful domicile and kept either stocked, the King will then ask for strawberry yogurt.
I use the word ‘ask’ liberally, because this isn’t so much a request at that point, as it is a frantic utterance exploding from his tiny vibrating hyperventilating person. 9 times out of 10, we don’t get to Yogurtaclysm. I can stave off the insanity at the initial request, but this time it is appropriate to say, Mama lost her damn fool mind.
I had none of this in the house, and since toddlers develop the uncanny ability to sense weakness I just knew that he would soon pick up on my distress and go in for the kill. I maneuvered my purse in front of the barren banana hammock and asked him to go put his shoes on so we could go on a ride to the store. I held my breath as he furroughed his brow at my out-of-place purse, and sighed loudly when turned to put his flip flops on.
A few minutes and a grocery cart load later, I was feeling pretty darn good. We maneuvered into the express checkout lane and I was about to unload my three meager items when I noticed the 5 million purchases of the person in front of us. I stood with my yogurt-filled hand frozen over the belt.
“Can you count?” I muttered under my breath.
The King turned towards me and loudly exhibited his new habit “Mama, why you say “can you count?”
I frantically whispered, “Shhh Shhh Shh, I was just saying that this line is for 10 things or fewer. She has more than 10.”
He nodded his head solemnly, “She has more than 10.” I relaxed into myself until I saw him swiveling his body around “Hey you, Lady! This is spress lane. You have more than 10.”
The offending shopper and cashier turned to look at us, the King with his finger extended accusingly and me with all the fucks given ever written plainly on my face. I offered up a beatific smile and dropped the yogurt onto the belt.