By LIA SPENCER
GETTING groceries has become one of the things on my list which I cannot do with my little girl Isla. And that’s fine. I love how she is curious, active and full of zest. It just means that I have had to make a few changes in how and when I do the shopping.
Doing a weekly, or even a daily shop, used to be a breeze when Isla was a bub. She would happily sit in the baby seat while I slowly strolled through the aisles, debating which cereal to get or contemplating which new yogurt to try.
When she started moving around, the shopping got a little quicker. I found it relatively easy to strap her in the seat, give her a little toy, and get the things needed for the next few days. But this stage of our lives was short-lived. She soon learned to wiggle her way out of the seat, and on one occasion she nearly gave me a heart attack, when I turned from the canned vegies back to the cart to see her standing and smiling, proud of her achievement. With this, I started tightening the strap as tight as it could go, but she was like Houdini with her seat-defying tricks.
I tried to seat her in the cart itself, as I had seen other parents push along their kids who would happily rest among the packaged food. But this was not suitable for my thrill-seeking girlie. Sitting in the cart was not fun enough, so she would stand up, sway a mischievous giggle as I manoeuvred through the shops.
I finally made the no-brainer decision to do the shopping while she was in creche, or at home in the evenings or on weekends with my husband Michael.
But this weekend, Michael decided we would all take a family stroll to the grocery store to get a few things we needed. I tried to convince him otherwise, but he assured me it would be fine.
This is how it went down:
We arrived and paid $2 to give Isla a little ride on the kids’ carousal before entering. The ride was the slowest, longest ride in history but Isla was happy, so we were, too.
Then the real fun began. We walked in and she bee-lined to oranges, probably thinking they would be fun to throw or bounce. I managed to get the vegies while Michael tried to pry her lightning-quick hands away from all ball-shaped fruit in the area.
We then made it to the meat section, and when we wouldn’t let her take some of the nearby dips, she cracked it. (If you have been taking notes, I stupidly jinxed myself a few weeks ago when I said I was thankful she hadn’t thrown a tantrum in the grocery store yet).
We almost lost her at the milk section, which was her favourite part. She was the equivalent to a thirsty man at Dan Murphy’s. She was nearly drooling at the fridge door, repeating the words ‘milk, milk, milk’ and didn’t bat an eye as we walked away. Of course, we didn’t leave her completely, we watched from around the corner. Eventually, she answered our calls and followed us to the baby section where she was intrigued by all the Winnie the Poos and Disney characters on the nappy boxes. After another several minutes, we finally made it to the toy aisle, which helped us bribe her towards the checkout aisle and out of the store.
“Never again,” Michael said on the walk back to the house, which was dragged out, thanks to several obstacles such as wet benches, puddles and a park.
We got what we needed in the end, but from here on, I will be doing all the shopping on my own.
