My husband suggests about half of the blog posts that I write.  This is no different.  I told him last night that I was in the checkout with our three adorable, ahem, children.  AFTER the sale was complete, the cashier returned four coupons that she chose not to scan.  She said, “These aren’t right.  We don’t even sell that item.”  I took it upon myself to inform her that, yes, the store does sell that product.  In fact, I plucked those coupons from the dispenser in the store.  I added that I would have appreciated the courtesy of informing me before charging me so that I would have the opportunity to contend or choose not to purchase the item(s) in question.

Upon what I intended to be the completion of my recollection, my husband asked, “Why didn’t you take it to customer service?” (I still may.)  I said that the baby was whining/crying because she needed a nap.  The toddler (who had taken a bite out of one of the returned coupons, but that’s another issue entirely) was throwing a temper tantrum because I moved the cart where she couldn’t grab the register and shake the cart and all of its contents (including the sleepy baby).  Also, I overheard the kindergartener ask a stranger why she only had one leg.  I was a little preoccupied.

My husband was laughing because our children where such a disruption that they were almost a cliché.  Through his chuckles, he asked, “What did you do?  Did you go to customer service then?”  He knows me well.  I said, “No, I left.  The movement calmed the baby.  There were no more registers to grab.  I had a chance to explain to our son that we don’t risk hurting people’s feelings by asking them why they are different, no matter how kind and accommodating they are.”  He responded, “At least she didn’t mind.”

I find it to be an amusing feature of parenthood that the more mouths there are to feed, the more grocery shopping is required.  Thus, there are more people to hinder the laborious grocery shopping process.  Oh, well.  Pardon me while I block out this memory (or at least alter it) so that I can recollect how pleasant these times are and say to my children, “I remember how inquisitive and thoughtful you all were when you were little.”