I'm overwhelmed by the abundance in grocery stores here. There are so many options, it's almost sickening. It's even more sickening when your 2 year old is screaming, "MO NACKS! MO NACKS!" Which translates to "More snacks, please dearest mother, most honorable one." And you have to yell to be heard over the squeak-grinding of your cart wheels*, "Shhh. Please wait. You can have a snack in a minute." Mason was trying to escape from that plastic car thing attached to the cart. He soon figured out that he wasn't really steering this car after all, and after swiping a box of cherry tomatoes onto the floor as a distraction, he tried to make a getaway. Roman, meanwhile was being the pleasant angel he is, but having him strapped to me, meant I was slower and Mason sensed this weakness.The shoppers could see and hear us coming through the aisles. I was almost too distracted to see their uncomfortable smiles, as they dove into the wall of cereal boxes to clear our path. As if I can't maneuver this thing.
One brave soul, however, approached us as if to speak. He handed me a business card.
"No thanks," I said.
"It's for a day care."
(groan) "I'm good."
So what does it mean when perfect strangers are recommending day cares to you? I didn't know either so we proceeded to fill our cart with giant pumpkins and (s)nacks.
*not to be confused with cart wheels
