Ice Ice, Baby


Taking my kids to the grocery store it like trying to take ferrets on a walk without leashes.

It usually ends well.

I had to go to the store last night because, apparently, I have been forgetting to feed my husband. I could make him get his own groceries for work, but I don’t think any of us would be very pleased with the results. He values quantity over quality and I do not have room in my pantry for 10 flats of Ramen noodles.

I took the kids with me because I have this chronic case of temporary amnesia. I keep forgetting that my kids go insane when they enter a grocery store. It is, quite honestly, worse than going to a toy store because a toy store has clearer expectations. We are looking for one thing or they know they are only looking when we are in a toy store. In the grocery store? Well, it feels more like a free-for-all because there isn’t that clear line for them of what we are there for. We follow a list, but sometimes there is an in-store sale or we have to change the list because something is out of stock, etc. So, the kids get overly excited because around any corner there might be a treat or something tasty they can potentially con me in to putting in the cart. (I like that a sack of apples can cause excitement, but boy does that get trying…)

By the time we filled out cart and got to the check-out, the kids were in rare form. The boys were trying to steal each other’s shoes and succeeding. I was working on a slow boil of annoyed rage by this point.

As I was paying for the groceries, it got quiet. Oh God. Where did the boys go?

I scanned my eyes around the front of the store looking for them in to mischief and couldn’t see a thing. Oh no.

Then, I saw a flash of movement from inside the big cooler used to store bags of crushed ice.

Oh yes. My sons were stuck inside an ice cooler in a grocery store.

Sometimes starving sounds like a better option than ever going back there.


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