Baby Carts

I like to think of myself as a professional grocery shopper...
Detailed list, ordered coupons, tennis shoes, back pack, sippy cups, and an array of appetizers
ready to be whipped out at a moment's notice should one child or a mother sense a pending meltdown.

Baby carts. You know those miniature versions of regular carts? I avoid them like the plague.
I tell my kids to look the other way as we scurry past. Worst mother ever? No, best CUSTOMER ever.
Stores are just asking for it. You give one of those to a child and you might as well have given them a
pair of ice skates and a bottle of tequila. Those carts aren't stable and are perfect for running into
center aisle displays or into your sibling...parent...whichever is closest.

The other night I had to get SIX things at the grocery store. "Suuuuuuure you can get a baby cart."
That was my mistake. I gave in. Thought it would be fun. Isaiah ran to them - in slow motion with arms
open wide.... CRAAAASH. He wiped out on the floor and slid his little head right into the line of baby carts.

It wasn't terrible, he didn't even get a red whelp, but he thought it warranted a blood curdling scream.
Every eye was on me. It wasn't SO bad until Judah started climbing out of the regular sized cart and screaming for a GUN.

Yes, a gun. A water gun. Parent of the year right here. Screaming and guns. I didn't let him have that
gun due to his little attitude. And it wasn't until we checked out that I realized I had carried that
tiny squirt gun all the way through the store, up and down every aisle, clinched in my hand like I was
going to use it or something. I'm sure people were judging the hippy with her long skirt and bandana
with crazy cart kids who were enjoying passing the time at the grocery store by screaming.

So there we were - 6 items evenly distributed between TWO baby carts at the check-out counter.
They probably thought I was drinking tequila for giving BOTH my boys a tiny cart. Whatever.
High on life. Living it up at Trader Joe's.

But then there was this little girl with blue hair. BLUE hair. She looked like something straight
out of a Dr. Seuss book. Judah just stared. And she stared back. Waiting for the moment he would
release that baby cart so SHE could take it. "Judah, give the cart to the little girl, please?"

I'm glad she had blue hair. It served as comic relief in my little tragedy of a shopping trip.
Once his little hands were pried off and the cart set free - more screaming.
Top of the lungs - perfect pitch for doing damage.

And get this... the lady checking us out totally told me: "Be patient... it's almost over."

***Smile. Shake head. Roll eyes. Queue laughing in my brain.***

It was late. I gave them each a sucker, strapped them into their car seats,
and vowed never to grocery shop before bedtime ever again.

If you haven't heard, baby carts are from the devil.
I'm not sure people with a driver's license can even control those things.