I took both girls to Wal-Mart this morning. In the pouring down rain. As if taking two kids to the store isn't bad enough, we had to go in the middle of a torrential downpour. Normally, I would have waited until tomorrow to do the grocery shopping, but we were out of the essentials. Like formula. And milk. And Cheez-its (for the girls, obviously).
Claire was in a particularly helpful mood this morning. She is normally restrained in one of those monsterous shopping carts--the ones that have a huge plastic seat attached to a regular cart--but none of those were available. So Claire was walking. And helping.
She selected the produce, carefully inspecting each apple, orange and broccoli spear. She helped choose the bread. She deliberated for what seemed like an hour over the Gatorade (did Daddy want orange or blue? Maybe yellow?). When she paused to examine the many varities of fruit snacks, I didn't notice and rammed her with the cart.
"Sorry, Mom," she said. "I didn't mean to hit your cart."
I was trying to figure out why she was apologizing to me when I was the one who nearly ran her down when I saw a lady watching us. "Such a polite child!" she said. "They should put her in the front of the store and let her teach the other kids how to behave."
I think I snorted out loud. And then mumbled something like "Yeah, that'd be a good one."