No Sunday in the Park

Yesterday was Sunday, and because we have all been so busy, I thought it would be nice to be together as a family. Because of the yard sale on Saturday though, I had errands to run. I had to go order a bench we need in the kitchen, and I also needed to pick up a few groceries. Manfrengensen offered me an option: we could go as a family, or I could go by myself and get some “alone time.”

I don’t know what I was thinking, but I said let’s all go together. What the hell, after all?  Well, of course the grocery store was busy like a beehive. The kids immediately said they wanted one of those carts that looks like a car. I hate those freaking carts. They are a pain in the neck to maneuver, and absolutely impossible to unload in a tight cashier aisle. But Manfrengensen was there. He said he would push the thing. Okay, I said, it’s your funeral.

And it was. Clooney and The Princess squeezed into that little front seat. Clooney, who’s six practically had his knees in his ears. They were bickering the whole time. “Stop touching me!” “Don’t touch my wheel!” “Stay on your side!” and the two-syllable “DA-AD!!”

The furniture store is right next to the grocery one, Mike Tysonso Manfrengensen forged our path into the market while I went to order the bench. By the time I caught up with him, he looked like a deer in headlights. Yeah, man, I know what it’s like to shop three-on-one with the kids. Sometimes I think it would be easier to just go a few rounds with Mike Tyson.

We doubled back to the produce section so I could pick out some salad greens. Then I grabbed a bottle of dressing from the refrigerated area there. Edison said he wanted to help put that into the cart. I handed it to him and went about looking for the next item on the list in my head. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him. Yes, I saw it happening, but I didn’t think to stop it. Well, I did think to stop it actually, but he likes to experiment, and as a parent, I am trying, with much trepidation I might add, not to micro manage, to let them be and discover for themselves. Edison is by nature a man of science, got a curious mind is all. He wanted to know, apparently, how much the salad dressing weighed, and so he put it into the metal bowl of a produce scale that was about a foot or so above his head.

I think you can guess what happened then. Basically, it was a raspberry vinaigrette explosion. Frightening, but delicious. Thankfully, none of the glass shrapnel embedded in anyone’s skin. But most of my family was covered in dressing and ready to be tossed.

A teenage grocery drone looked at us blankly (he may even have exhaled audibly — who could blame him?) before he turned to go get the “CAUTION” triangles and a mop. We slunk away, mumbling, “Sorry, sorry.”

Just another day with the family.

One Comment on “No Sunday in the Park”

  1. The Woman says:

    I am soooooooooo glad someone else hates those carts as much as I do! Curse the imbecile who created them!

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