Lately Little Man and I have been going grocery shopping together on Mondays when he gets out of school. This coincides with Baby Girl’s naptime (so she stays at home with my husband, lest you think I’m out and about while she’s in her pack-n-play), and shopping with one kiddo is much easier than shopping with two. Mostly.
LM loves to help, but he tends to get a bit frustrated helping me sometimes because of my organizational skills. I’m now making a list for grocery shopping on my iPhone, but often my list items are rather vague.
“Hold on,” LM said after I put a bottle of Worcester sauce in the cart. “You didn’t have sauce on the list.”
“Well, I had meatloaf on the list,” I told him. “So I know what that means, ingredients wise. The sauce is one of those ingredients. You can just check off meatloaf after I get the other stuff and we’ll be good.”
Little Man sighed. “I’ll just add sauce to the list and check that off.” So he did.
Later, Little Man noticed that I put a thing of applesauce in the cart. “Mommy, I did not see applesauce on the list,” he informed me in what was a rather stern voice. I wonder if his father has been coaching him about sticking to the list.
I cut my eyes at him. “I had fruit on the list, LM. This is applesauce, so it counts. Any other fruit items I pick up fall under that list item.”
“Couldn’t you just write down each fruit item you plan to get?”
I shrugged. “Nah. Because I don’t know which fruits I’m going to buy, fresh or otherwise, until I get to the store and see what’s on sale.”
Yet another sigh came from Little Man. “Hold on. I’m going to add applesauce to the list so I can check it off.” And he did.
As we walked around picking up various items, Little Man asked about why I make my lists the way I do. “We’re walking around all over the place in here. Why don’t you organize your lists better? You could have put all the meat together so we wouldn’t have to keep walking back and forth.”
Shut it, Little Man. Not that I would say that. In public, anyway. “This is how Mommy gets her exercise,” I joked. “I’m doing good to have a list. Organization will come later.”
Little Man also gave me a hard time about putting items in the cart that appeared nowhere on the list — either as an item itself or as a vague category item. Until he found something he wanted, that is.
“Oooh, Mommy, can we?!” Little Man asked, holding up one of those giant tubs of cheese balls. “Please?” That was most definitely not on the list in any way, shape, or form. Yuck.
“Nope. We’ve got Goldfish. Put that back,” I told him and continued on to the next aisle.
He put the tub back, but did try to get me to change my mind. “Mommy, PLEASE can we get them? We haven’t bought those cheese balls in a long time, and I love them! PLEEEEAAAASE?!!!” He stepped in front of me with his hands clasped together and stuck his bottom lip out. He think this is his “adorable face,” one that I can’t resist. He is wrong. (It might have been cute when he was 4, but now it’s just plain creepy.)
“Nope. That stuff is just crap, we don’t need that.” And it is crap, but more importantly, we don’t need a giant ass plastic bin that he will later beg to use to keep a collection in. Yep, my priorities are such that I value order in my home over my kids’ arteries.
“But Mommy, I love ALL the crap!” he half shouted, which made me start giggling.
“That was funny, huh?” LM asked. “So funny that…” he raised his eyebrows, but left the “can I get the cheese balls” unspoken.