Tuesday, August 9, 2011

Would Somebody Hail My Kid?

Morning Readers,

     The only thing I love better than grocery shopping is dragging everything home, unloading it, at seven o'clock at night, and realizing someone's already opened my brand new milk; the cap positioned so the tiniest amount of cow juice dribbles from car to counter top. It's a good thing I love it so much, or dragging the babies to the store, to return it, would've been an ordeal. Would've been embarrassing delivering it in a little, yellow taxi. Would've been inconvenient to rely on the cashier to catch my baby like a fly ball...

Yep, good thing I love it so much....

     It'd been sitting in the parking lot like a beacon of yellow hope. Lady Luck, thou art the color of lemon meringue, I thought. Steering the car towards the cart coral, I skidded into the parking spot, jumped out, spread my wings like a fruit bat and grabbed the plastic cart shaped like a taxi cab. Never mind it was smiling at me like some creepy clown monkey, it's eyes saying, "I'll kill you in your sleep, but sure, let's go by some honey-oat-bran". It held two kids, and I had two of those with me.
     "Everyone in."
     The taxi smiled as I loaded Butch and Sundance into the little seat and began clattering my way up to the store, dripping jug of milk riding shotgun. The quick jog to the door presented me with a flashback moment... the type of moment that reminds you you used to have a ten-year plan. And, though your brain's a little foggy, you don't remember strategically placing banana-yellow taxi anywhere on your fast track to success.

Old Me: What? Me? Ten years from now? Oh, probably laying by the pool, talking to my accountant, Jean Paul, about why all my money can't fit in my account, and how the surplus should probably go to fluffy terry cloth robes embroidered for each day of the week.

Present Day Me: Hmm..I'll take "Pushing a Plastic Taxi With Googly Eyes" for five-hundred, Alex.

     We rattled up to customer service, stopped just long enough to get our two dollars back, and, realizing we eat dinner on Mondays, I clunked further into the store. You know the old saying, Readers.."When pushing a plastic taxi, don't use any discretion and head to the dairy section..."
     Chips, beans, Velveeta...it wasn't until the meat aisle that the first mate decided to abandon ship, his fat, now-shoeless foot hitched over the "door", steadily finding leverage. My crew was restless, and with jackrabbit speed, I sprinted to the check-out, and began throwing things on the conveyor belt. And that's when it happened.
     "That'll be.."

     "Hold that thought." Credit card in hand, I'd turned just in time to see Butch split from the taxi. One shoe on, one shoe off, he sprinted down the rows of check-out stands, his bare foot "slapping" past the sackers and stunned old ladies. Praying Sundance stayed in her seat, I hurtled the cab and flew after my baby, successfully catching up to him just in time to make sure everyone in the store was watching. I potatoed sacked him back, swiped my card and stared at the cashier.

"Are they twins?"
"Uh huh."
"Did you know there's a double seat up in the front?"
"Because there is..."
"Ok, I did know. I just hate myself a lot...umm....Jan."

     With that, she helped me plop them both in the convenient, accessible front seats, and I wheeled us out. We made it back to the car, loaded up, and just as I'd closed the back door, I saw a bedraggled woman standing five feet away, staring me down. "I don't have any cash. I spent it all on Velveeta."

"Sorry, we're just waiting for the taxi. They love the taxi." She smiled the sweet smile of someone teetering on the edge of a cliff."

"Of course they do."

Until Next Time, Readers!