Shopping Day
Monday was errand day at The Circus. We piled into the van, each with our own vision of the hours ahead. Riley sees shopping as an opportunity. At Mom and Dad’s, Aunt Mo and I heard her singing her own version of A Whole New World. It went something like: A whole new world…I can show you a whole new world…something shiny and new that you can buy for me….Adam sees shopping as an uninteresting bump in the road. A chance to go somewhere with a guarantee to be bored out of his mind. Zoe sees shopping as a grand adventure. What will I see? More importantly, whom will I see? Will I get a free sample cookie at Target? I see shopping as a necessary evil…gotta get out there and get some food to eat. My agenda is always to get it done and get back with as much efficiency as possible. Bigger adventures can be found at home.:)
Sam’s was our first stop. Zoe loves Sam’s. As we walk down the aisles with purpose, she slows us down to point at things.
“Mom, we have a couch like that.”
“Mom, they have beds in here.”
“Mom, what is that?!”
“Mom, I need to tell you something. LOOK at that BIG trampoline! (pause) Mom, God is bigger than that big trampoline.”
“Mom, who’s that lady?”
Yes, every sentence does begin with “Mom.”:) Once we hit the grocery aisles, Zoe and Riley start demanding that I allow them to take turns putting things into the buggy. I wish you could’ve seen Zoe trying to pick up a gallon of milk and lift it into the cart. “It’s…heavy…but…I…can…do…it.”
When our dear friend Pam walked out, Zoe had started making her own grocery list on an index card, asking me to spell things as we added them to our cart. Adam, way bored with the dairy aisle, was slowly bending his knees and pulling backward at various angles. No doubt he was carefully calculating each one. Riley patiently waited, satisfied that the next item would be hers to put in. We chatted for a few moments with Pam, who kissed all the kids and then went back to work. No sooner had Pam walked away then Zoe started talking again.
“Mom, why is Aunt Pam here?”
“She works here.”
“She DOES?!”
I could tell Zoe was pondering this as we walked on. After a few moments, she said, “Mom, when I grow up, I’m going to work at Sam’s. You’ll see me, but you won’t recognize that I’m your special Zoe.”
This made me smile. “Zoe, no matter how old you are, you’ll always be my special Zoe. AND, I’ll always know you.”
Next stop: Target. My cousin Emily calls Target “The Mother Ship.” I love that.
The minute we walk into Target, Zoe starts in on me about the free cookie. I am listening, but every time she says the word “cookie,” I see the tins of Christmas cookies that still take up a large space on our counter top. As soon as we enter the soup aisle, Zoe notices the cans of soup with the Disney Princesses on them that have been carefully placed at eye-level. As I am explaining to her that this soup is no different than the less expensive soup we usually buy, Riley spies the cans with Dora’s face splashed all over them. All the way down the aisle we are bantering in rhythm:
“Princess soup!”
“No.”
“Dora soup! I love Dora soup!”
“No.”
“Princess soup!”
“No.”
“Dora soup! I love…”
You get the idea. We had one young couple (obviously childless) in stitches as we turned the corner. At the end of the soup aisle, we run right into the obnoxiously placed Kid Cuisine meals. Riley begins a conversation which lasts the duration of the shopping trip.
“Mom, I want Kid Cuisine.”
“No, we don’t need Kid Cuisine.”
“But Mom, I love Kid Cuisine. Kid Cuisine is my favorite.”
“No, we don’t need Kid Cuisine.”
“Mom, Daddy loves Lean Cuisine (He doesn’t. Total fabrication.). I love Kid Cuisine. I want Kid Cuisine, please!”
“No, we don’t need Kid Cuisine.”
“Mom, but I need Kid Cuisine.”
“Riley, who do you know who eats Kid Cuisine?”
“Everyone. Everyone else eats Kid Cuisine. Please!”
I noticed that the closer we got to lunch time the shorter the pauses were between Riley’s pleas. I hate Kid Cuisine. Now and forevermore.
The only pause in this conversation occurred when we passed the shoe aisle, at which point, Riley said, “Mom, I love shoes (she does). Can I have some shoes?” Amelda Marcos has nothing on Riley.
Meanwhile, Adam is still measuring angles with his legs, dancing down the aisles when he must walk, sometimes standing on top of the back of the cart (At one point, just as I thought, “Why is this cart not moving?!” I realized I was pulling all three of them through the store and the groceries. I ordered everyone down at once.).
We ran into our school’s wonderful OT in Target, and only when I asked Adam to say hello did he pop up and offer me a look which said something like, “Did you need me for something?”
Riley and Adam, who were pushing the cart from the back, kept running over Zoe’s heel. Keep in mind, that Zoe slows the cart down with her observations. I can’t tell you the number of times I explained that Adam and Riley couldn’t see her feet and that she might want to walk to the side of the cart rather than in front of it. “But Mom, Riley and Adam are just going too fast.”
For my part, I was relieved to head home. I couldn’t help but smile as I thought about our little circus, with its own rhythm and unique sounds, whirling with “pleasant choas” right through every errand day stop.
