Alright, everybody, after an extremely trying morning of having to go grocery shopping with my Mama, I decided to write down some guidelines for successful grocery shopping. My Mama seems to need all the help she can get…
Ok, first of all, lets get this one little thing straight: I will sit in the cart, but don’t you dare try to buckle me in. This buckle that came with the cart cover? It’s not a restraining device, it’s a NECKLACE. So don’t try to strap me down, accessorize me!!!
Let’s just face it: Grocery shopping, for me, is a tad on the boring side. Being the brilliant baby that I am, I’ve devised a fun game for us to play. Hand me that package of Jello. Ok, now I’ve tossed it on the ground, pick it up! I toss, you pick up. I think it’s only fair to warn you that if you try and toss the jello into the back of the cart, that is technically considered a penalty, and so I’ll just shriek the “penalty siren” until you give it back to me.
I can be distracted from this game with your cell phone.
And by the way, while we were shopping, I called and hung up on most of the people in your address book. Just a little F.Y.I.
Next, at all costs, keep me away from that weird old guy who said, “She don’t need no hairbow to tell she’s a girl!” He scared the living daylights out of me, and frankly, Mama, I’m disappointed that you let him get so close to me that I could see that I have more teeth than he did. And by the way, I’m going to SCREAM uncontrollably every time we run into him again. Adjust your shopping route through the store accordingly.
Ok, listen. I know daddy was laughing, but I think he may have been serious when he said no more buying clothes for me. I was in the closet with him right before he found you and said that, and he was grumbling something about me having so many clothes crammed in my closet he can’t even look at what’s in there. I think he was pretty serious about the ban, so put those shoes back. I know, I know, shoes are not clothing, but I’m willing to bet that my daddy doesn’t understand the difference between clothing and accessories. And never will.
And don’t you even try to blame that Hannah Montana cd on me. We all know you were the one who wanted it, Mama.
Could you keep my adoring fans away? I’m about tired of having to listen to how adorable I am again and again. The next time someone approaches our cart, I’m going to stage a meltdown. That should get rid of them quickly.
Hand over your shopping list. and pen. NOW. I’m bored.
Also, just so you know, that lady who saw you take my picture thinks you are crazy. Your smile and explanation, “It’s for my blog!” didn’t help. She’s over in produce wondering what the heck a blog is and why it needed a picture of me in the shopping cart.
I know it’s a lot of work, Mama, but for keeping my rules, you get to enjoy the presence of my company while you shop.