Most of our shopping trips aren't very "blog worthy," but this one was.
The venture began beautifully (beautiful except for me - I passed on a shower in an effort to rush out the door early and beat the crowds). What did parents ever do before these great carts? Andrew always has a lot of fun "driving" us around the store and waving to the passers-by. (And yes, the camera is pretty much a permanent fixture in the diaper bag. One never knows when photo-ops might arise...)
We found some amazing sales and all was well. One bargain was 5 12-packs of soda for $11. Sweet! We loaded them up and off we went.
Checkout time arrived. We waited in a looong line (remember -things move slowly down in these here parts) and Andrew had managed to get one arm out of his shirt, as well as abandon one of his socks somewhere in the store. Remind me not to buy expensive Stride Rite socks. It was definitely time to checkout and go home.
The poor checkout girl was new and therefore even slower than expected. Sweet, though. By the time it was our turn to check out, there was a hefty line of 5 or so folks with the dumb luck of getting behind the woman with the toddler and a race-cart jammed to the brim. Andrew, who apparently really wanted to be naked, started taking off his shirt again as I squatted down to begin dragging soda boxes from below the cart. Somehow, I lost my balance and fell backward, right on my butt, dropping a soda box on the lady's foot behind me. She was kind and not visibly hurt, even though I apologized up and down. I was completely mortified.
Then I heard the sound.....
....hisssssssssss.....
As if an embarrassing fall and attempted Sierra Mist injury weren't bad enough, I had somehow managed to puncture one of the cans and now the box of soda was spraying into the aisle, all over me, and yes, onto the poor soul behind us. The cashier, who clearly didn't need this challenge in her life, scrambled around and brought out some paper towels. She then called for the "mop guy on aisle 3" (not verbatim of course, but that's how I heard it in my head) as well as another guy who had to run to get us a replacement box. In the interest of getting the hell outta there, I said I would be happy to take the busted box, but the crowd of employees that had gathered felt so sorry for us they said no way. The new box actually appeared very quickly; they wanted to see us gone as much as we did.
Andrew had taken both arms out of his shirt by this point, and was barefoot. He was also yelling. Soon after that, I paid, tucked my tail, and took an extremely brisk walk to the car, praying the Sierra Mist foot lady had parked on the other side of the lot.
Can you be banned from a store? I was clearly a danger to myself and others this morning. Needless to say, the next time I darken the Kroger doorway it will definitely be in a disguise. Andrew, too. Maybe I could just wash my hair and put on makeup and that would do the trick.
