On Sunday morning, I was lucky enough to con the husband into watching Tyler while I went to the grocery store. Usually I drag the husband in tow, to avoid the otherwise inevitable complaining about what I buy.
Why did you buy this kind of bread....I don't like diet pop....You bought the wrong kind of granola bars....But I don't want this kind of cereal this week, yes I realize I ate it last week, but I wanted something different.
To this my standard response is "I had a coupon, it was on sale, live with it"
So on Sunday, he promised not to complain about anything I bought and allowed me to venture out on my own. It was blissful, even if it was 9am on a Sunday, I hadn't bothered to brush my hair, and threw on the first thing that looked half way clean.
I took my time driving to the store. I paused early at the stoplights that began to turn red. I used my turn signals, I parked a few rows away from the entrance for the extra exercise, I even bought a $4 cup of coffee at Starbucks because I knew there wouldn't be anyone to knock it over while he threw a hissy fit because mommy wouldn't let him eat the whole bag of grapes while we shopped.
I checked prices against my coupons, I evaluated the best buys with the cost per ounce sticker on the shelves. I even made a few personal phone calls while I leisurely walked the quiet, empty aisles. I was almost a little sad when I realized my shopping list was completed and I had to checkout.
But all good things must come to an end, so I drove back to the house, slowly, trying to formulate a plan that allowed solo grocery trips every week. Shouldn't be too hard. Men hate the grocery store, right?
The husband and I unloaded the car, dragged the bags inside and plopped them down on the counters. Because we'd rather cut circulation off to our fingers then make more than one trip, it only took a minute.
Tyler, eager to help out, grabbed a grocery bag off the counter and began pulling it's contents out and whipping them onto the kitchen floor. Once that bag was finished, he stood and reached for another one. In an effort to avoid a great mess, I handed him the package of diapers and asked him to go put them in his room.
He smiled his huge smile and quickly turned and ran for the stairs. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs, planted his feet, leaned back, swung his arms behind him and tried to chuck the diapers up the stairs.
I laughed. I laughed so hard I almost cried. Because for all the times we've gone to the store, all the times I've come back realizing that the trip took longer than it should have and it sent me into turbo mode. All the times I would quickly de-bag the items, slamming them down on the counter, rushing around and then stand at the bottom of the stairs, hurling baby and bath products up the stairs into the hallway to "make-up time". It never occurred to me that this might not be a great example to set.
It never occurred to me that this would be something he'd pick-up on. Of all the things he could learn, he could copy, he decides my bad habit of "out of sight, out of mind" was the one he'd take. Figures.
I guess he's his mother's son after all.