Shopping with our boys is sometimes a truly harrowing experience.
Between Noah’s constant requests to go for a wee (really all he wants to do is walk & not sit in the trolley), his sporadic escape attempts, Tobias’s spontaneous crying outbreaks, grouchy shoppers & too happy checkout people, I’m surprised I haven’t broken down in the aisles like that woman in the ‘Vicks’ advert trying to pre-empt her sons tantrum. Although, my paddy would actually be genuine.
I hate it. I always try make our list like a sort of map of the supermarket, planning our way so we can get around & get out of there as fast as possible. But that never happens. Today it took two hours. Ash & I had to alternate carrying Toby (because he wouldn’t stop crying) & pushing the trolley with the dodgy wheel that kept veering to the right. I bumped into at least four people with it.
I don’t know why we didn’t change it as soon as we started pushing the thing. We knew it was only going to get worse what with the added weight of the shopping and the boys near-constant shaking of the it while they fought for their freedom; but for some reason (laziness, stupidity, a yearn for a challenge) we stuck with it, battling until I literally was telling the thing to behave. That’s right – I ended up telling a trolley off, talking to an inanimate object as though it would understand me & obey. This is what happens when you spend all day interacting with children & having full blown conversations with their toys.
Speaking of which, my parents bought Noah a ‘Woody’ doll (Toy Story) when they went on holiday, & I genuinely freak out if he treats it badly (drops it, swings it about by its pull-cord, throws it down the stairs.)
I look at it as though it can really hear me, talk Noah in to treating it with love & respect. Toy Story has made me believe in supernatural toy phenomenons. I’m convinced the thing comes to life whenever we leave the room. It’s hat is constantly missing, just like in the movies. I’m pretty sure it follows me around the house; I find it wherever I go – the kitchen, the study, the lounge, the bathroom. Creepy. One of these times Bullseye’s going to be with him – he was Babu’s present. What are my parents trying to do to me?
(On a side note, this is what shopping today did to my child …