Skip to main content

Clean Up, Aisle Five


I can only advertise this experience thanks to my friend's recent wine incident, in which her 5-year-old crashed the grocery cart into the wine display at Albertson's, sending six bottles to an early demise and the rest rolling to the four corners of the store. And all of this occurring in front of a business colleague, of course. I relate this to make my own shame a little less harmless, although I have to admit that my friend took the noble route and stuck around to help clean-up (she swears it was only because she had a cart full of groceries at the time).

Here's the setting: Lucie's birthday, balloon bouquet and bag of party supplies in hand, one hour until guests arrive for cupcakes. I forced both kids into "one more store" (Grayson's least favorite phrase, right along with "just one more thing") to grab pizza from a high-end grocery store next door with a delicious Wolfgang Puck's Express. My famous last words on the way in were "we don't need a cart; we're just grabbing a pizza and then we're out of here." Wolfgang Puck's helper takes forever to package up the pizza, or at least things seem to take longer with a squirmy birthday girl on one hip and an embarrassingly pink balloon bouquet in the other hand. He finally hands over the pizza and starts to work on the salad. Grayson has to hold the pizza box, which Lucie quickly determines is concealing food, and makes a lunge for. Grayson decides that the best tactic for keeping Lucie away from the pizza is to balance the box on his head ... and you see where this is going ... SPLOT. Upside down, box completely splayed open, sauce and cheese commingled on the polished concrete floors.

I closed my eyes and tried to find my happy place, but all I can hear is Grayson crying, "Am I going to get a spanking?!," Lucie's loud shrieks over the food now revealed, and my earlier push to do "just one more thing." This time, the lesson was mine to be learned. So there was only one thing I could do; tuck and roll. The pizza stayed, the Wagner's took our balloons and ran.

It's too bad, really. I liked that Wolfgang Pucks. But I've got a feeling it will be awhile before the Balloon Bandits are welcomed there again.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Motherhood - Not for the faint of heart

My picture of hell: one soggy rainy day, two healthy energetic children, three solid days of DVDs, one dog that needs to pee but refuses to get wet, and me. Alone with the carnage and contracted to get 4 hours of work done. And just to frost the cake, Lucie can take off her pooy diaper now, which delights us all, but especially the dog, to no end. These days it is sort of a toss up for who has left the pile on the carpet. Lucie? Dog? The fact that it landed on top of a princess high heel is good indication the culprit was of the two-legged, shoe-loving, Oreo-eating variety, which makes it only slightly less disgusting to remove behind a 28-ply Kleenex. Pray for sunshine.

Lucie and the Problem of Evil

Lucie has suddenly started questioning things. And by things, I mean eternal things. It all started when she asked if I would read her a bedtime story from the Bible storybook. The book opens innocently enough with the story of creation. There are lions and tigers and bears, and naked people being created from dust. (At this point in the story you’d think questions would arise, but no, kids just seem to go along with it at face value. Which is exactly the reason I've had to work so hard to convince Lucie that turtleneck shirts are not actually made from the necks of turtles.) Anyways ... "Do you know why Adam and Eve are sad?" I asked, pointing at the picture of them sorrowfully leaving the garden. "I sure do, " Lucie assured me. "They are sad because they don't have any parents."  Impressive, huh? Clearly, she’d been processing and following along. "Well there is that," I prodded her, "and also they have to leave the ...

Say This!

Picture by Grayson (our 9 year-old) Last week we reached another one of those parenting milestones. At 27+ months of age, Violet said her first real words: "Mama! Me go!"  Three little words so beautiful, so stunning and unexpected, they stopped me in my tracks. Even the other kids dropped their activities and ran out to verify that, yes, Violet had spoken. We hugged and touch-down-danced and, of course, Violet got to "go." When you have a child who is the tiniest bit developmentally delayed, small accomplishments are met with big celebration. Lucie insists on accompanying me on simple errands? I need to figure out a way to sneak out the door more efficiently; Violet suddenly says that she wants to go? Hot dog! Get the video camera and your shoes on kiddo! Therapists have been coming to the house since the first week of January, evaluating Violet's delays. At her last check in, she had about 15 simple words in her vocabulary -- about 100 words u...