"You will not believe what your mom did at the store," laughed my husband as he hauled four bags of groceries -- looped over one arm -- into the kitchen from the car.
And thus begins another episode of "Mommy-Gagging: The Curious and Mostly Believable Things People See Their Mothers Do From Behind Laced Fingers Positioned Over Their Eyes, As They Hide Two Aisles Away Pretending They've Never Seen Her Before.
He dumps the bags on the counter and backs away. His job is officially over.
The kids, brimming with curiosity and sensing the possibility of a fresh box of breakfast cereal, slither out from their individual lairs and rummage through the overpacked reusable totes.
The mission they choose to accept required they put the loot in its rightful place.
They half listen as their dad recounts the colorful tale of the rare, date-night style grocery trip with his so-called "better half."
Who, as he and his progeny tell it, is the person ordinarily tasked with trudging to the supermarket daily and yet NEVER manages to buy anything to eat.
They snicker and roll their eyes as he starts in the parking lot, describing the scene: He has had to wait
while this Magoo character he married returns to the car -- twice --looking for aforementioned reusable tote bags she had in ANOTHER tote bag dangling from her shoulder the whole time.
Then there was the argument over the big cart; a supermarket choice she refuses, even at Thanksgiving, for no other reason than vanity and the erroneous belief that "we don't need much stuff." The fact that she piles the little cart with a clown car's worth of provisions every single trip, notwithstanding.
The there's the disappearing act. Anyone in my family will tell you this is an inherited trait in which the less ambitious shopper (me) stops walking or disappears altogether for the unintended purpose of looking at something they have no intention of buying.
Lobster!!!
No, wait ... I'm gonna let your mom tell it. I'm not sure how IT really happened.
So it is near the tank of blood red crustaceans that I find myself browsing when I look down, and some man is kind of half-crawling, half-reaching for my shoe.
Now, I'll admit, this is unusual, and my first thought is that he may be trying to free me from some detritus
I have trailed in from the parking lot. Instead, the man apologizes and asks about the construction of my boot. Are the uppers really leather or a polyethylene weave?
It's hard to tell from a website, the only other place he's seen this very style he's interested in purchasing for himself.
"Are they waterproof?"
Now ... I love these boots. I practically live in them. So having a chance to talk them up seems preferable to deciding which flavor Goldfish snack crackers is the current favorite.
"The only water that gets in comes from the top because I leave them unlaced, even when I snowshoe."
"Are they light?"
And this is where my husband, having noticed I was no longer behind him at the bulk granola bins, came to find me ...
"They have a little weight to them."
... balancing on one leg, and holding out my boot to a stranger near the seafood counter.
My kids' eyes go wide.
"I can't believe how lucky we are," my daughter exclaimed as she hugs a giant box of tiny snack crackers.
"We almost went with you to the store!"
No comments:
Post a Comment