Grocery Store

When the kids were little and Jean was working, Jean would go to the grocery store on Saturday mornings. Shoot, when the kids were really little the whole family went to the grocery store on Saturday mornings. I wasn’t man enough to be left at home with BOTH of the little monsters. I wanted Jean’s help keeping them in line.

In the parking lot the kids had to keep one finger on the car after we unloaded them one at a time. Failure to comply resulted in a firm swat. They learned that rule quickly. We didn’t want a “dead kid by car” in the parking lot. Reading the Atlanta newspaper revealed all kinds of bizarre deaths of kids due to stupid parents not paying attention. There were plenty of other opportunities for me in the coming years.

One of us would hunt up a grocery cart while the other rode herd over the two munchkins keeping a finger on the car. We’d load one kid underneath the cart and the other up top. While loaded below for the first time John must have been fascinated by the wheels while in the store. He promptly played with the cart wheel and nearly had his finger ripped off. His scream reached every corner of the store. Everyone in the store looked at us like child abusers; not the first time nor the last time that happened; being looked at like child abusers.

The grocery store was at the top of a hill. We always parked the car at the bottom of the hill, far from the store and the other parked cars to minimize the chances of “dead kid by car”. When we left the store we had this grocery cart full of kids and groceries. It had wheels, it had mass, and there was this beautiful long downhill of asphalt leading to our car. So I stepped up on the back frame of the cart and kids plus dad coasted down the hill to the car. The carts did not go straight, so I had to repeatedly touch the back wheels with my feet to maintain direction.

We were moving pretty fast, faster than the cars in the parking lot. The kids loved it. Jean tolerated her husband’s behavior. I liked the notoriety and aberrant behavior aspect of it. Kids love anything odd, different, quirky, or abnormal. I was the right man (kid) for the job. The people in cars were surprised to see a young man and two munchkins go zipping by.

When the kids got older they had their own activities to pursue at home. Eventually the lure of the grocery store lost its appeal, so I stayed at home with the kids. I could manage them by that time. When Jean came home from the store we would hear the garage door going up and Jean would honk the horn to be sure we all heard. We would all yell “Mommy’s home”, drop what we were doing, and head for the garage. If Jean was going to the grocery store by herself while we stayed home and had fun, everyone had to help unload the car when she arrived.

Those were fun moments. The three kids (for I was, in truth, one of the kids) stampeding for the car/garage to welcome Mom home and discover what kinds of goodies we were going to be eating for the next week. Everyone was happy and busy grabbing bags from the trunk and ferrying them into the house; it was a team effort. It was a rule. It was expected. We also wanted to get back to playing as quickly as possible. All Hands on Deck!