Earlier we were out grocery shopping with some of the kids, when I looked back at the pop isle and noticed Jeffy up on tiptoe, trying to pull a large bottle of soda down from a shelf that was clearly out of his reach.
"Jeffy! Stop that!" I yelled. "You could pull that right onto your head!"
He ignored me, and continued to reach for the pop.
"Jeffy. . That's too heavy! Do you want it to fall and bonk you right on the head?!" I was annoyed by this blatant lack of cooperation.
Exasperated, Jefferson hopped down, turned and faced me, hands on his little hips.
"We're 'posed to get a 2-liter!" He spat furiously in his baby voice, eyes flashing. "Dad said!!"
Chortle, snicker. . Well, if Dad said. . .
Later, Charlie and I were in the frozen isle, scanning the shelves, looking for a good deal on fruit juice.
I sighed. Was there anything under a buck seventy-five a can?! This was ridiculous. Then I spotted something. . My left eyebrow shot up.
"Hey Charlie. . "I said, my tone casual. "The Margarita mix is only 88 cents. . ."
"Then we'd have to buy rum. . ." He grinned, not missing a beat. Typical. (Warm smile.) That's my hottsie totsie man! Always entertaining. . . : )
Even more entertaining was the non-stop fist fight going on in the baby/toddler seat of our shopping cart. We had front row tickets. Jefferson and Lincoln went at it pretty much the entire time we were there. It was like a smaller version of ultimate fighting, with Olympic style intensity, right there in front of us. . . : )
But with their matching blue shirts, they should've been on the same team. . . . Especially with the 'brrrrum cart', steering wheels and all, to distract them. . .
No comments:
Post a Comment