Richard Hearn is driven shopping mad
One day we’re going to buy that dog insurance. We pick up the leaflet often enough. We haven’t actually got a dog so it would be pretty pointless. Until then, we’ll simply end each supermarket trip by picking up the dog insurance leaflet.
“I still absent-mindedly blow raspberries at the till”
Just as each supermarket trip ends with the pooch pamphlet, so it starts with the pocket point. This is done by Youngest™ once he’s sitting in the trolley and we go through the automatic doors. He is so used to having a box of raisins to eat as we start every trip, that his pointing gesture is as automatic as a bell going off when you step onto a jeweller’s mat.
A long shop or trip, my wife refers to as a ‘two raisin problem’ in homage to Sherlock Holmes who used to have a two-pipe problem. Forget the raisins and you’re doomed.
There’s a whole set of codes and rules that lie underneath the surface of ‘Parent with Child in Supermarket‘, a kind of Da Vinci Code of Retail. Hidden signs. Unbreakable contracts. When The Boy was younger and pre-speaking, I used to wonder why he went loopy around the bakery section. It’s because his mum used to give him a pain au raisin (paid for later at the till, let me stress.). Me, being a cruel type, or just not knowing the code, didn’t.
If I ever go without the kids, I walk around the aisle thinking I’ve forgotten something – and no I’m not thinking cherry tomatoes. I still absent-mindedly blow raspberries at the till, and have to stop myself cheerily naming everything I put in the trolley, as if it’s of huge interest. “Milk! Apples! Wine! Yum! Yum Yum!” etc.
Fortunes, in terms of the supermarket, fluctuate with the age of children.
The Boy, aged seven, currently hates the supermarket. He enacts moments from You’ve Been Framed before collapsing with boredom near the soup aisle as if his bones have been removed. Youngest™, two, is just about OK so long as I’ve got those aforementioned raisins and he’s “contained“. (Not contained is a nightmare. At some point someone’s going to break the unwritten code and lightning will strike).
Patience is always wearing thin though by the time we get to the till. I’m aware since parenthood of the kindness of strangers. This seems particularly true in supermarkets. Strangers – and staff – will often talk to and amuse Youngest™ enough to make the last section bearable. I consider them to be a human version of the dog leaflet. Just about allowing me to complete the food shopping with my sanity intact.
