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At the End of a Terrible Week, May All Your Troubles Be This Small

April 19, 2013

Overheard in the produce aisle of the Safeway, where a dad was shopping with his 4-year-old son, who was sitting in the basket of the grocery cart and crying his eyes out.

Boy (wailing loudly): I’M NOT HAPPY!

Dad (cheerfully): You’re not happy? You’re shopping with your papa! What’s better than shopping with Papa?


  1. April 19, 2013 6:46 PM

    I used to really enjoy grocery shopping with my mother or (more rarely) with my father, given my ability to badger them into buying cake and candy that they would not otherwise. Clearly that kid has a lot to learn.

    I would employ reverse psychology on my dad and say, “we can’t have that, can we?” while looking at a box of Cracker Jacks or the like, which would make him laugh and put it in the cart. I know he was on to me; I think he just liked that I thought I was sneaky.

  2. April 19, 2013 7:37 PM

    My mother had grocery shopping totally figured out. She’d let my brother and me pick out our own breakfast cereal, secure in the knowledge that NASA never studied moon rocks with the kind of minute precision that we used for comparing which cereal delivered both the greatest dosage of sugar and bizarre colors, AND the most amazing toy surprise. By the time we’d finished our analyses and tracked her down in the store with our booty she’d be at least 2/3rds done with the shopping.

    We were a corn flakes and rice krispies household; maybe raisin bran if it was someone’s birthday. Though I do remember having a box of Boo Berry once when we were on vacation. I had things like Trix and Quisp at friends’ houses, but I was 26-years-old before I had my first bowl of Cap’n Crunch, and it wasn’t really worth the wait.

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