Grocery Shopping: An Intervention

Today I had to go grocery shopping--you know, there's a potential ice storm.

It is Georgia.
I must go buy bread and milk.
Glenn Burns says it is not as bad as originally expected.
Ken Cook says it is worse.
(They're the local weatherman--too lazy to Google links.)

Sigh, but I had Beau with me.

However, he was sitting, quite unusually, in the cart.

He was-- even more unusual-- being a very good, cooperative, boy. This almost never happens when we grocery shop--especially if Carmella is with us as they will compete in their naughtiness. Beau excels at the naughtiness in public event. Carmella does not. I guess it is an attention thing on his part.

Whatever, who cares. It is always embarrassing and very annoying. See,I'm one of those moms in the grocery store (also on the plane, in the waiting room, at the restaurant, where ever, I am always THAT mom.)

Anyway, I said to him, towards the end of our unusually uneventful shopping excursion:

"Oh yeah, I want to get some orange juice. I love orange juice!"

Beau, correcting me: "No you don't!"

Me, correcting him, as I place fresh squeezed with calcium Publix OJ in my cart: "Uh, yes, I do!I love it after my runs"

Beau, oddly, now angry, "No you don't! Mommy! YOU drink BEER!"

Me, glancing around to see who heard and sigh as it was several people who I see covering their snickers so I quickly concede that: "Yes, I do drink beer-- but only occasionally and never,ever, for breakfast."

And Beau in his impatient, angry voice proclaims: "Mommy. Yes. You. Do! You drink BEER for breakfast. " (For the record I do not drink beer for breakfast--or for any meal for that matter)

As I quickly rush my cart to the check-out line and try to salvage my dignity, I correct him that it is "COFFEE Beau. Coffee. Oh, look there's Scooby Doo. . ."