Sometimes looking at our past is important. Sometimes it is just out right hilarious. This is the latter. Reminisce with me, won’t you? The following story is not a test or piece of fiction. The following story is #111 why we should have our own show. 

as promised, the grocery store

::flasback segment::
Layla Grace-6 monthish
Isabelle-4 ish
me-the day I turned gray
It’s a day like any other. We have errands to run. One including the grocery store. We stroll into Albertson’s. Oh so unsuspecting. I have Eli and Layla squeeezed into the front seat normally meant for one. They are rigged, two legs in one hole and a baby blanket wedged to one side. Isabelle is walking. I have my calculator, my list, and we are all set with goodies from the cold drink aisle. I do the usual patrolling. “don’t take that off the shelf.” “don’t lick the cart.” stuff like that.

About an hour or more into it we are in the home stretch with only about three aisles to go. I am at the butcher counter getting steaks for dinner. Ah the good wife. ::pat pat pat:: then suddenly out of my apron wearing day dream I notice a cold something or other ::drip drip drop::

what is that?
 :drip: I bend to see milk splattering under my cart.
:drop: quite a bit of it.
“What? How did that happen?” ::drip drop::
“Elijah, what did you do?” and this is where, if he could speak, he would tell me he ate through the carton- right through the plastic.
Good grief. What a mess.
I wiggle closer to the lobster tank where they provide you with free paper towels… for the dive I suppose. As it turns out they are equally handy for almost-two-year-olds.

So I get my steaks and turn around just in time to notice Layla Grace has gnawed herself a little snack. This one is made of a different variety. Same animal- this time it is raw hamburger.
(Yep, you heard me)
Through my disgust and her tears, I manage to dig as much as possible out of her mouth, left wondering how much she actually ate. ew.
I notice a convenient trash can next to me and deposit the remnants of her snack into the can, and just as I do, my hand gets snagged on the lid. It is one of those big metal cans with the teeter tottery lids.

Life is now in slow motion. teeter, totter, teeeeetter, toooooottterrr.
The kids are crying, the butcher woman is agasp, chest heaving, and my eyes are wide as the trash can lid flies up up up into the air.

I am spider man as i look around me, taking it all in.
And then, the display catches my eye. I hadn’t noticed you before. I make a mental registry of everything as it all comes crashing to the ground.

No. not paper towels, that would be easy. I see can openers, corkscrews, wire baskets, salt and pepper shakers, thermometers, anything metal a grocery store would carry. Yes, it is all on this very special metal itself, display. It too is on the floor.
You know what always amazes me? How everything gets so quiet when a terribly loud noise happens.)
Isabelle is the first to speak…and I quote “NO WAY THAT JUST HAPPENED!”
I am still too shocked to say anything. Still silence.

The butcher lady comes close and says, “Just go, honey. I will take care of everything.”
So I unloaded my children, and we left the grocery store.

And in my best Alex Trebek voice:
“Why don’t the Brewer kids go to the grocery store?”

So, if you know of a guy who is looking to take a chance on a new reality TV show families every where will love, send him our way. This is a fairly typical afternoon of nonsense around here.