Grocery Hell

On Saturday afternoon I had a lapse in reason. Not momentary lapse in reason, an epic lapse in reason:

I offered to let Etienne have a nap and I would take the kids shopping.

Grocery shopping.

On a Saturday afternoon.

On the way there we had a long chat about using inside voices, not whining for toys/juice/chips, not running off in the shops and I promised to buy them each a juice if they behaved. I had a feeling I was in for an interesting time when Daniel ran off to grab a box of strawberries the minute we set foot in the door.

It rapidly deteriorated from there. There was much whooping and shouting. And running. Omg. The running and the talking. ‘MAMMA! LOOK AT THE (insert toy name here)! Please can we have it???

I eventually make it to the pharmacy counter, only for them to run off to the other side of the store, but unfortunately I could still hear them. At this point I should tell you that this was not a small grocery store, it was a big store. And it was BUSY.

So, I’m stuck at the pharmacy counter and I say to the bemused Pharmacist ‘Those are my Husband’s children’

‘Oh’, she says, ‘are you just taking care of them for the day?’

Now. At this point I could have said yes. But I’m a wimp, so I said ‘No, I just say that when they annoy me’. She didn’t find it funny. I blushed and scuttled away from that counter and made my way through the queue to go and find my Husband’s children.

In the toy aisle.

Completely unperturbed about the whereabouts of their Mother.

I walked past them and eventually they follow me into the juice aisle where I promise them each a juice if they don’t run off again. Which they promptly did.

So.

I stalked off to the till, half of my shopping undone. Did they look for me? Did they worry? Did they cry? Did they wail like abandoned children? No. A resounding NO. They were having too much fun.

By then there were several people with trolleys behind me and I could still hear the whooping and shouting. I was praying that I could just finish paying and then herd them to the door with the minimum of fuss. Then I heard them, thundering down the aisles shouting Mammmmmaaaaaaa!!!

The woman in the queue behind me helpfully pointed me out to them and I looked playful daggers at her and said ‘I’m hiding from them’

I know, I know. It sounded much MUCH funnier in my head. The look of abject horror on her face was priceless.

If you were that customer, I apologise. We love our kids, really, we do, I wanted them to just realise for a nano second that they could lose me, not the other way around.

Was I cross? Not really, but I do worry that they make such a noise in the shops, I can only imagine how loud they must be to the untrained ear.

The worst of it all: I wasn’t even wearing lipstick. Scandalous, I know.

How do your kids behave in the shops?