Yet we head in. Somewhere, some design genius, who has obviously never had children, thought it would be a brilliant idea to make mini-shopping carts for toddlers such as the one that shadows me. You know said genius did not have to battle a four-year-old child for steerage control just at the moment you pass the wine display, narrowly missing the precariously stacked tower of pino-something, that if broken would cost me a month's worth of groceries. I'm almost ready to crack one open and have a swig.
Once we've safely navigated ourselves to a safer aisle like, I don't know, cereal boxes and glass pickle jars, she immediately begins filling her little cart. I end up walking behind her for about three aisles putting items back that she is convinced we need. Things like pop tarts, gummy bears, princess coloring books, and extra-absorbent Depends (it has a pink wrapper with flowers - don't know what she thinks it is, but she wants it). When I do get the rare opportunity to add my own items to her cart, she will loudly exclaim things like, "Phew, good, NOW we have cocoa." Right, you've been waiting for cocoa for months, haven't you? Or my other favorite, the negotiation. Mom, we don't need eggs. Why do you want eggs? And I have to calmly explain to this CHILD why we need eggs and beg her permission to add them to the cart.
But my absolute favorite moment of the day comes when we are in the checkout line, waiting our turn. We put our groceries on the conveyor belt (all six items that took 45 minutes to get) and she goes to put her cart away. The customer in front of us is just collecting her receipt, but Hannah so ever delicately yells, "MOM, I CAN'T GO BECAUSE THIS LADY IS RIGHT IN MY WAY," just as she is about to ram the poor woman in her Achilles tendon. This, of course, draws the attention of everyone in the entire San Diego County. I am, once again, so proud to be a mother.
She is unfortunately rewarded with a plastic Hello Kitty ring by our favorite Hispanic bagger who makes her promise to "Listen to jour mudder for turdy-fie jears." With an angelic smile on her face, she promises.
I pray we don't run out of milk by tomorrow.