A Tale of Two Kids (In the Supermarket)

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times . . . actually, in this case it was just the worst of times. This is a tale of two kids and their harried mother in the Reams supermarket in Roy, Utah. The kids in this tale are my two oldest children, Michael (who was about three and a half at the time) and Stephen (who was about a year and a half old). The harried mother, of course, is me.
Most of my blog readers are too young to remember the old super-saver supermarkets where you had to write the prices of each item that you tossed into your cart on each item that you tossed into your cart (with a grease pencil) and then you had to bag your own groceries at the end of this process. The produce aisle was particularly fun, as each item had to be weighed and then you had to write the weight on a wide twist tie and twist it firmly into place on each plastic bag of produce. I guess they trusted us more in those days not to shave a few pennies off the price or a few ounces off the weight. Then, after you'd frantically unloaded the cart and bagged all of the items, you'd write a check (yes, this was actually done in those days) to pay for your groceries and then you'd schlep them out to your car by yourself and load them into your trunk (actually, that part mostly holds true today, too.) Now, none of this seems like it would be too tough to navigate . . . just a little inconvenient. Not too tough until you introduce the kid factor, that is.
In the days that I was hauling kids around with me in the supermarket, there were no carts that looked like little cars or miniature shopping carts that your child (children) could push by themselves and keep themselves amused for at least three minutes. There weren't even seat belts on the carts to keep the kids semi-contained. AND there were no cell phones or ipods that you could hand to your kid to amuse them with games like Angry Birds (which, BTW, I'm finally over. I've moved on to Tiny Wings) or Disney animated movies. I'm not saying, my young friends, that any of these modern conveniences make it EASY to take children to the supermarket. Just sayin' that they perhaps give you a fighting chance. Anyway . . .
As a rule, I avoided taking children to the supermarket, however, on this particular day, I found myself doing a pretty substantial amount of grocery shopping with the two little boys, mentioned above. I took one of Brent's belts with me, not to administer beatings but to strap Steve into the little rumble seat of the cart and Mike either stood on the back of the cart or rode in it . . . I can't remember. We actually made it through the grocery shopping, my grease pencil flying furiously in my hand, without too much pain. By the time we were pulling up to unload and pay for the groceries, however, Steve had had it with his belted confinement in the rumble seat and was managing to wiggle out of his tethers. I was unloading groceries as fast as I could, but the situation was going south quickly. I didn't want Steve to fall head long out of the cart so I finally took him out and tried keeping him next to me while I was unloading, bagging etc. Nope. Wasn't working. He kept heading straight to the automatic doors and I simply couldn't have my one and a half year old running into the parking lot now COULD I?! So after I had fetched him back to the check-out counter about sixteen times (people were lining up behind me with their laden carts) I did something desperate.
On either side of the automatic doors were stacked bags of dog chow (like fifty pound bags of dog chow). They were stacked vertically, two or three deep all along the wall. I sat Mikey down with his back resting on one of said bags of chow, plopped Steve in his lap and instructed Mike to close his arms around Steve, kind of like a seat belt. I told him that no matter how Steve struggled or how loud he screamed, to hold on to him until I finished bagging the groceries and writing the check to pay for them. Okay? Got that Mikey? And if you can hold onto him, I'll buy you the biggest treat you've ever had in your life! Ready, set, go.
Steve was screeching (as only Steve could . . . a high pitched squeal that was just one tone away from only being able to be heard by dogs but painfully audible to humans) before I even got him plopped in Mikey's lap. Oh my. And he could sustain this squeal for amazing amounts of time. The struggle was epic. Pretty soon they were rolling around on the floor, Mikey yelling and holding on with a death grip (large treat at stake, here) and Steve red-faced, swinging with both fists and kicking with both feet and squealing, squealing squealing . . . Somehow, in the fracas, one of the fifty pound bags of dog chow tipped over and literally exploded on the cement floor, sending all fifty pounds of kibble skittering and sliding through at least ten check-out areas (clean-up on aisles four through fourteen please!) and attracting the attention of all of the shoppers in said check-out areas (well, at least those that somehow hadn't noticed the commotion preceding this debacle). Mikey was now crying piteously (his dreams of an impossibly big treat gone up in flames) and was still trying to chase down Steve who was happily running around and stuffing dog food into his cheeks like a little chipmunk working on winter food storage! At this point, I believe I didn't care if he ran into the parking lot. People were staring at me with utter contempt and not one person offered their help (where is President Kimball when you need him?) I guess, in fairness to all of those shocked and appalled people, I probably didn't look very approachable at that moment, not even with an offer of help. I finished writing my check, threw the last bag of groceries into the cart, and hauled myself and my kids out of that supermarket in absolute fury and shame, never to return. Well, never to return with kids, that is. It was many years before I had the courage to take a kid into a supermarket again.
I've told this story many times but I think this is the first time I've actually written it down. I was inspired to do so by a recent post of one of my favorite bloggers, Chrissy Madsen. Her blog can be accessed from my friends and family list. Great writer, great reading. Thanks for the inspiration today, Chrissy.
I have some other "kids in stores" stories but I'll save them for another day. My only kid that was actually enjoyable to take shopping was Laura. The promise of a treat was enough to inspire this little girl to exemplary behavior for amazingly long periods of time. She just hopped and skipped and twirled and sang (loudly) through hours of shopping with me (she had a pair of shoes that she called her shopping shoes, pronounced "sopping soos").
As for Mikey and Steve . . . Mikey did get a big treat for his efforts and Steve continued a love of dog kibble throughout his early childhood. When we visited at homes where there was a dog, I had to really keep my eye on him! Til next time . . .