Robby has become a grumpy shopper. I find this not only an inconvenience, but also sad because I enjoy shopping. He has become particularly bad in the grocery store. So bad, in fact, that we have learned to develop an attack plan for our shopping.
As soon as we park the car, Scott and I separate into our assigned roles. He removes Robby from the car seat and walks with him into the store. I walk ahead of them, scouting out the carts. Any Mom will agree that the car cart is the coveted cart at the grocery store. If we are lucky enough to nab a car cart, I am able to breathe a sigh of relief. The probability of a successful shopping excursion just increased exponentially.
The other day Scott went for a haircut, and I took Robby to the neighboring grocery store to pick up a few items. Robby absolutely hates the barber and screams from the moment that he enters until he leaves. I decided it was best to spare the other customers my son's behavior.
Seeing a car cart, Robby went running. He hopped into the car and immediately started honking the horn. He was happy. I was happy because I was able to get some groceries. Scott was happy because he was getting a haircut in peace.
Unfortunately, the tranquil moment was fleeting. In retrospect, I think that Robby was planning his escape from the moment we entered the store. He was merely using the horn as a guise for his master plan.
When I turned to weigh the bananas, Robby took the opportunity to jump out of the cart. He took off running and laughing. I grabbed my purse, left the cart and pursued my child. He was fast!
I cornered him at an aisle end cap promoting a local wine. He grabbed a bottle and held it out. I told him in my sternest Mommy voice to put it down immediately. He threw the bottle down, about 3 feet away from him. Red wine splashed everywhere.
The horrified look on my face must have let my child know he was in trouble, because he grabbed another two bottles and ran. At this point, everybody in the store was watching. I imagine the average shopper wasn't expecting to see a one legged woman chasing a toddler carrying wine.
I suppose he was trying to gain more speed, because Robby off loaded the wine while running. Yes, another two bottles were smashed. I finally caught him. I held him, wiggling and screaming under my arm as I paid the manager for the three bottles of wine my little cherub destroyed. I guess I should be grateful that he likes cheap wine.
Robby has since been banned from the car carts unless they have a strap. Scott and I have found a new grocery store where we can do our shopping. We also found it ironic that our toddler's liquor bill was higher than ours for the month!