Writing Wrongs

September 15, 2005

So Jenn was talking about grocery shopping and how much she spent. We spent more. A. Lot. More. Still, we have four people to feed, including a very hungry nine-year-old football player. And I was in stocking up mode. You know, I’m juggled three boxes of pasta, and it’s four for five dollars . . . why not?

Until you get to the checkout, that is. We (Andrew, Kyra, and I, accompanied by the invisible monster kitty and monster puppy) filled two carts full of bagged groceries! Unbagged, they were this mass of stuff in and under the cart. As I was unloading them on to the conveyer belt, a jar of spaghetti sauce slipped through my grip. I caught it--barely. The woman working checkout looked at me and said: “Would you like help with bagging?”

We were at Cub, which is a bag-it-yourself-and-like-it place. Was it so obvious I couldn’t handle my own groceries? Maybe it was the kids in tow, who were having an active conversation about monster kitty and monster puppy. We got help. I tipped. From the young man’s expression, I’m pretty sure that was his first tip ever. I thought he was going to offer to carry all the groceries himself--all the way to our house.

The five of us (Andrew, Kyra, and I, accompanied by the invisible monster kitty and monster puppy) made it home, ate some of that new food, put monster kitty and monster puppy outside before bedtime. Kyra didn’t want them in the house, and yes, I opened the door and “shooed” them outside. Right before Andrew is set to go to bed, he tells me if he doesn’t hand in his homework tomorrow, he can’t be part of the Friday Fun Club.

And who wouldn’t want to be a part of that? Have we done the homework? Of course not. But it’s way too late, so I tell him I’ll wake him up early and he can finish it. This morning, he woke up on his own and did the homework. Wow.

Now if I could just figure out where monster kitty and monster puppy came from, we’d be all set.

Charity Tahmaseb wrote at 12:58 p.m.