I usually take turns with what child “gets” to come grocery shopping with me. I am fully capable of taking them all with me, but that calls out everyone’s survival instincts and isn’t much fun. I’ve found that by going when Andrew is available to stay with the other two I get to have some good 1:1 time with each kiddo. It’s also a good time to practice our Appearing In Public Skills individually so that when we are all out together it goes as smoothly as possible.
This week it was Pickle’s turn. He was a royal terror. We’re still in re-entry hell plus he’s sick and he’s two. It was ugly. I don’t think I’ve *ever* seen one of my child act so badly in public (minus my public humiliation at JFK, but I’m not counting that, mostly out of desire to not remember that). He was a beast. He at least did have the consideration to break it up with this rather hysterical dairy aisle exchange
I’m stopped waiting for my turn to look at cheese and complain about how a bag of shredded cheese can really cost that much. Pickle was sitting in the seat and staring at this woman who was trying way too hard to look way too young.
She was slim and I’d guess probably close to forty, but dressing out of a teenager’s closet. She had on her skinny jeans with artistic ripping on the thighs, and a gray fitted t-shirt, and then this black shirt-thing on top of it. She had a Mediterranean complexion and long (dyed or I’ll eat my boots) hair that was pulled back into a low-ponytail with strategic spiky wisps hanging down around her face. (She could have rocked a post-prom party, I’m sure.)
Pickle is just smitten. Staring. She glances over at him and then looks away. A minute or so later she looks back again and Pickle is still staring at her. She gives him a little smile and says hi to him.
His baby face lights up and he says, “Hi Pirate Princess!”
Man, so great. I just laughed and laughed.
We were on our way home from that same shopping trip and we stopped at the mailbox. Once I was back in the car and driving down the street to our house I saw these kids running down the sidewalk.
Our community speed limit is 15 so I had time to have all these thoughts.
“Look at that. A little black girl and a little white boy. I wonder if that’s in-home daycare kids. Maybe it’s an adoptive family in the neighborhood. Those kids are about my kids’ ages! Maybe we can be friends. Oh, that’s a man with them. Not likely to approach him…maybe I can see what house they go into….HEY….those are MY kids…dummy.