Rule Number Four

I have three rules when I go food shopping each Thursday: 1) Don't go hungry 2) Go with a list and a budget and 3) Go early--your life is forfeit if you try to go shopping at Costco after noon or any time on Saturday when you're guaranteed to get creamed by a cranky lady with a flat cart full of cat food, pop tarts and paper towels.

But this morning Andrew asked me, "Are you going to Costco?"

"Yes."

"Can I meet you there? I have a new prescription for glasses and want to pick out some frames. Will you help me choose?"

Thinking that I was going to get some unexpected Andrew Time in the middle of my day--and I always love me some Andrew Time--my automatic response was "Sure! Woo hoo!"

So ten o'clock came and I was pulling into the parking lot at Costco and there Andrew was, waiting for Lillian and me. First thing we picked out some eyeglass frames but when we were done he said, "I don't have to be back at the office right away, I can hang out with you while you shop--"

And like a sucker, I bought it. The first display we passed was dedicated to the beef jerky god and as soon as he saw it the begging began.

"Oh! Hey! Beef jerky! Can we get some? Please?"

"No."

"But you never buy any beef jerky!"

It hit me that I'd done it again. About every two or three years it happens and I just hadn't seen it coming this time. I love my husband, love him with all my heart but I just can't take him food shopping. To take Andrew with me is worse than breaking all the first three rules in my Shopping Catechism because he begs like a little kid for whatever he sees. You see, he doesn't watch Saturday morning television, rarely sees the inside of a store and has no idea all the food products that are out there so when he actually sees a supermarket he goes crazy, wanting this, begging for that and drooling over everything.

We passed the produce section where I bought a small bag of clementine oranges.

"You know, it would be nice if we could get some grapes. I like fresh fruit, could we get more fruit? We need more fruit, you know--like the grapes, those grapes really look good . . ."

Sigh. "Yes Andrew the grapes look yummy and oh so swell but I do, in fact, still have two pounds of kiwis, five pounds of apples, a bunch of bananas, two pummelos [that one left him puzzling, he has no idea what a pummelo is] and two boxes of mandarin oranges still at home waiting.

"Oh."

We drove past the frozen food section and suddenly he was clammering for popcorn shrimp, egg rolls, bagel bites, steak and cheese sandwiches and any other of the delights the freezers had to tempt him. I finally had had enough and went into turbo so I could lose him, leaving him stuck to the front of the glass freezer door at the pizza section, his tongue frozen to the glass.

Of course all this time Lillian was following me obediently, quietly observing the scene and probably thinking, "Wow, Dad."

Then we got to the cereal. His absolutely favorite part of the day is his nightcap of sugary goodness that he has just before bedtime and I knew the minute I turned the corner the enormity of the mistake I'd made. I'd already promised Lillian that she could pick out the cereal and she was quietly examining a three-pack of Lucky Charms, Trix and Cookie Crisp when Andrew found a monster box of oatmeal that he instantly bonded with.

He came to me with both arms wrapped around the box. "Can we get this Michelle? Please? I love oatmeal, please!"

"But look, there's a whole bunch of plain packets in there, you'll eat all the berry ones and I'll be stuck with a box of dumb ol' plain ones--or worse yet, the 'flax and oatmeal.' I can see those languishing in the cupboard for years."

"No, I'll eat them, I promise--could we get this please?  I really really love flax!"

"Fine, talk with Lillian. I'd told her she could choose the cereal this week so you're going to have to work it out with her first."

He smiled and did a little jump for joy and ran back to talk to Lillian who, predictably, wasn't budging on her Lucky Charms platform. She has principles you know and who in their right mind would trade oatmeal for Lucky Charms? I pushed on ahead, grateful for the diversion so I could lose the two of them and get through the checkout line without any more begging from Captain Stomach. Last thing I saw was them in front of the Corn Flakes doing rocks-paper-scissors to decide the matter.

When they finally found me at the checkout stand Andrew was drooping while Lillian clutched her box of "Lucky Larms [sic]."

"Too bad" I said consolingly.

"She beat me five out of seven," he moped. "I thought I knew her system but then she threw me for a loop there.  I didn't even see it coming--" he mumbled.

My love for my man kicked in and the sad puppy eyes were more than I could bear. "Well how about this? Why don't you go get your oatmeal and get Lillian to put back her triple pack then when we get to Fred Meyer I'll buy her her own single box of L.C.s No one likes the extra bag of Cookie Crisp that they stick in there anyway."

That perked him right up and while he duked it out with Lily about the cereal I pushed on through paying for the groceries--I wanted to hurry before he remembered that they sold pizza and hot dogs. I've come to realize that that's what I'm here for, that's my part in this partnership called marriage. I'm the voice of reason and wisdom, Solomon Mom or something.

But I'm not bringing him back to Costco for another couple years.

Technorati tags: parenting, motherhood, marriage