I'm so glad you ask if I want paper or plastic. I'm so glad you're putting my groceries in bags for me. I'm so glad you're separating my groceries for me, unlike the cashiers at Walmart (I ended up with frozen bananas by the time I got home two nights ago). I'm so glad you offer to help me to my car.
I understand that you are just a teenage boy who has no idea of what shopping with small children is like. (By the way, I said a prayer for your future wife today.) But here's a little hint coming from a mom who, while grocery shopping for any amount of time with two head strong little boys, feels like I have just entered the gates of hell:
DO NOT under any circumstance EVER ask me if I would like you to load my groceries into a regular cart!
Do you see this ginormous blue cart I'm trying to maneuver through the checkout lane? The one with two steering wheels to keep my two boys somewhat happy while I try to hunt and gather. The Hummer of all grocery carts. The cart that actually beeps like a utility truck when I back it up. Do you see it?
Do you see Baby Jaws strapped into the big blue monster? Do you see my butt load of coupons and purse sitting in said cart? Do you see me, being the multi-tasker that I am, digging for my debit card while defending the debit machine from Baby Jaws to keep him from canceling my order while trying to keep Big Brother out of the packs of gum because for the 100th time, "We have gum at home!?"
Do you see any of this? Because I think if you did see it, you would know that no, I don't want to unload, load, then unload again my children or any of my other crap! But alas, you had the nerve to ask me anyway and I had to reply the only way I knew how: with my Mommy death look. I'm so glad you understood 'the look'. You must have a great mom.
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