Pushing a wonky-wheeled cart through the market is always an adventure when there's a preschooler calling the shots as you go.
From deciding what vegetables to buy (red, orange and yellow peppers; red and "silver" potatoes; but NOT the asparagus, which I managed to slip into the cart unnoticed anyway) to what cheeses looked best, Ittybit has become a grocery guru.
There's something almost mystical about her talents:
For instance, as soon as the butcher handed us our pound of stew beef she had decided to cradle it in her arms and call it "her baby." She even told the cashier not to put her "baby" in the plastic bag, knowing full well that plastic is not a toy and not to be triffled with.
She had other, big sisterly plans: "I need to rock him to sleep."
The bagger gave me a look I instantly recognized as the trying-not-to-laugh face pinch.
I told her confidentially: "we save a lot of money on dolls, not to mention the added bonus of being to eat her babies."
In hindsight, I'm thinking it wasn't a really appropriate response.
4 comments:
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This is incredibly funny and awesome. Its funny, Charlotte is terrified, or I guess actively dislikes any of her "baby" dolls. She prefers animals. Nothing with human features. Perhaps I am raising a feral child. Maybe she too will cradle a meat baby!
We are going through food phases where things he scarfed now get a lukewarm welcome, "No YIKE it!" Bringing him to the store is a disaster. (NO!NO!NO!)I leave that up the husband to do solo.
I'm not going to mention how you are raising a little carnivore...seeing as how I raise them myself.
Although, we butcher our own meat and my chitlens would never think of packing around the wrapped carcass to dote and love.
No, they know where that package came from, as they once fondly fed it grain and stepped in it's droppings....
I would have paid good money to see that cashier's face!
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