Superpigs

Hey, guess where I went today? To the grocery store! Are you shocked? Are you? Are you? I'm so super I actually went to TWO grocery stores today. Don't worry, I can feel your jealousy seeping through the screen. Unfortunately for my kids, I had to take them along on account of this inconvenient time shortage we're experiencing this week. Said time shortage being caused primarily by a lengthy lack of preschool. Leeeengthy.

Piglet is none too thrilled to be coasting around Kroger in our pimpin' racecar cart alongside his free-wheeling, brake screeching, horn honking two year old brother and brews himself right into one of my favorite things: The Public Meltdown. Now, some schools of thought like to say that when kids do this in a store, you should abandon your cart of goods and leave that moment, thus teaching the child that you will not put up with such hooliganism.

Pause. Let's think about that for a minute.

I'm sorry, but who exactly does this solution punish? Do you really think your four year old is going to care that you've just left the grocery store ahead of schedule? Are you kidding me? Please. This punishes me and punishes Kroger. How? Well, let's see. We're halfway through the grocery store, there's a cart full of food that, if abandoned, is going to spoil or have to be put away by some unsuspecting employee. I came to the grocery store with intentions of leaving with, um....food? Which we will not have unless I complete my shopping mission. Ridiculous. I do not abandon ship. Er, race car cart.

I digress.

There were were: Happy honking two year old in car cart. Angry, writhing four year old being dragged (Carefully! Mind broken collarbone!) from car cart and deposited into baby seat up front with seat belt. And me. Let's not forget gym clothed, sweaty me clutching $50 of coupons and white-trash-growling at Piglet through clenched teeth for all I'm worth. But then, it happened.....I developed magical powers, right there in the laundry aisle between the Tide and the Woolite.

I took a deep cleansing breath and recalled Piglet's new, if somewhat obsessive and unhealthy, interest in all things law. And I embraced it. "PIGLET!" I hissed, mob style. "You need to CUT. IT. OUT. RIGHT NOW, or Kroger is going to have to call the police!" He froze, his eyes darted left and right and doggone if that kid didn't clam right up. Pigpen even stopped honking to see what was up. I relaxed. Began pushing the cart again, congratulating myself on such a brilliant manuever. This Mom of the Year plucked some Angel Soft that was about to be 16 cents off the shelf and tossed it giddily into the cart. I steered into the main aisle.

Y'all.

I'm not lying even a little bit when I tell you that three uniformed police officers from the sherriff's department turned the corner out of the Little Debbie aisle and walked right past us. It's like I had hired them. (Which I totally might would if that sort of thing wasn't an inappropriate use of police time.) Piglet took in the hats and the handcuffs and the belts and nearly stroked out right there in the cart. His breathing got all funny, and he started asking me things in this wobbly, panting whisper. "Mommy? Are we almost done? Can we go now?"

He was perfectly angelic for the rest of the trip, and later at the next grocery store, he quietly chastised Pigpen as we rode around the store. Pigpen, be quiet. Pigpen, use your inside voice. Pigpen, don't cry, don't cry! I could not have asked for anything better. I mean, finally, something I threatened has meaning!

How long do you think this will last? Have you ever abandoned a cart?