Spilled Milk

Husband is gone for the evening. Fridge, cupboards, and stomachs are empty. So I load the kids into the family truckster (minus the wood paneling but otherwise very close to Clark Griswald) and we head to the store (rhymes with barget). It’s about the moment we reach for the cart that things go terribly wrong.

Mommy, can I drive?

Me: Yes as long as you drive like a human being.

Produce: Mommy, can we have some of [basically everything that isn’t a pepper or an onion]?

Canned fruit: Mommy, can we have applesauce?

M: We have some at home.

Oh. Mommy, can we get some applesauce?

M: *sigh* We have some at home.

Baking supplies: Mommy, can we get cake? Can we get frosting? Can we get spray frosting? How about pink sprinkles? Can I get this candle?

Offspring #2, who cannot see over the cart handle is now hopping while hanging on. I am attempting to steer from the front without stepping on offspring #1 because he’s not watching where we’re going. Hopper (offspring #2) is pulling the cart backwards.

M: One more warning and you’re done driving. We can’t move when you’re hopping.

Cereal: [Purchasing cereal for food shelf – should be wholesome and not sugary] Can I get these bright red and orange and purple things that don’t have a single thing besides processed chemicals?

Fruit snacks: [I know, my mistake – wrong turn] Mommy, can I get these and these and these and these?

M: Please let go of the cart now. You’re still hopping and driving priveleges are revoked.

Offspring #2 attempts tears. I am amazed at how well my evil eye works on her.

Chips: Mommy, can we get [anything that isn’t the bag I just put in the cart]?

M: I have a bag, we’re fine. Please walk on the side or behind the cart. If the cart runs over your foot it will really hurt.

Beverages: Mommy, see all these cool mini cans of pop?

M: Yup.

Tinfoil: We are now traveling three wide and another cart is approaching us. Typical children would form a line behind mother duck to allow others to pass easily. Not offspring 1 and 2.

Head over to allergy medicine: SLAM. Offspring #2 is walking in front of the cart and decides now would be a good time to stop. Tears, screams, people looking, offspring #1 trying to console, offspring #2 trying to fend off his kind hand.

Somehow we make it through dairy products. Checkout line, here we come.

I begin loading onto the conveyor belt. Calmly inform the cashier I’ve had too much help on this trip. She smiles. I sigh, thankful the trip is almost over.

Offspring #1 takes gallon of milk from counter and proceeds to explode it on the floor. Milk is gushing everywhere including all over him, me, the plastic bag inventory. Offspring #2 doesn’t know what’s happening because she’s on the floor begging for a toy on the bottom shelf at the checkout so she walks right through the puddle, covering both feet in milk because she’s wearing flip flops in 40° weather.

Offspring #1 (you know, the one with sensory issues and anxiety issues?) is nonstop talking. He can’t stop telling me he’s sorry. He’s covered in milk and begins shaking.

The kind cashier loads my bags into my cart as another 3 cashiers are mopping, soaking, and dripping.

The drive home is spent discussing spilled milk, how milk gets in the plastic jugs, who makes the jugs, what will happen to the jug we once owned that is now split in two.

Hope you had a good bike ride tonight, honey.