you a lady

A few days ago I took Danny to the grocery store with me. As soon as I found a parking spot, Danny looked out his window and found the cart. You know the one. It's a humongous pink butterfly car stuck on the end of a shopping cart.

I hate those carts. They're huge and hard to maneuver around the aisles. Stick a kid in it and he can reach everything. It takes away my parental controls. Danny loves it. I give two thumbs down to whoever invented them. (It was probably some man who never goes to the grocery store with small children.)

I strapped Danny in as best I could and entered the store. He turned that little steering wheel like he was zooming down the track at the Indy 500. He didn't do much honking but boy did he steer.

For the most part, he resisted grabbing everything within his reach. I did my best to stay smack dab in the middle of the aisles. I only had to wrestle a small bag of noodles away from him. Overall, it wasn't as bad as I imagined.

That is, until we got to the checkout. That's where they have all those little goo-gahs that they hope you'll buy at the last minute. Danny grabbed for a toothbrush. I said, "No, Danny. The lady said don't touch." I don't know who the lady is, but it usually works to say that someone else says no.

As I unloaded the contents of our cart, Danny did his best to load up his pink butterfly car with a deck of cards, some dental floss, a package of batteries and a mini cookbook. I put them all back and told him that the lady said no.

He looked up at me through the back window of his car and said, "Mama, you a lady?"

I said, "Yes, I'm a lady."

He laughed and said, "Noooooooooo! You not a lady!"

It's good to know what he thinks of me.

As for the picture, that's Danny being very unladylike while eating his Tic-Tacs. I think I'm the one who put those in the cart. If not, Danny just got the five finger discount.