Despite it being a public holiday, Godzilla and I were still able to go to the supermarket and do a quick shop.
Read: half of normal grocery shop.
I left Monkey Boy at home with Grumpy, because, well, they both deserved it.
Godzilla was being remarkably well behaved and helpful, only running slightly ahead, instead of three isles then crying dramatically because he couldn’t see me. He put things in the trolley, and didn’t insist on hopping in, or standing on the front.
Bad enough that you get a dodgy trolley, but when you unnecessarily add an additional 20 kilo or so, that’s just plain silly.
That, and there’s no satisfaction in actually letting him have fun, when you can forbid it when the opportunity arises.
We’re going along well, no dramas. Then we reach the “bafroom” isle. The one that contains toothpaste, and “dis shampoo” and “dis bubble barf” ..
… and “feminine hygiene products”.
Godzilla, slightly ahead of me, reaches up to a shelf and races back to me, excited grin on his face.
“Mummy? Are these “minis”?” he asks, loudly, of course, thrusting a brightly coloured box of tampons at me.
“No. Go put ’em back.”
Off he races, while I peruse the shelves in front of me.
“Mummy,” he yells, running up to me agian. “Are these “minis”?”
“No. Put. Them. Back. And. Leave. Them. Alone.”
Off he runs to replace second box of tampons.
“MUMMY,” comes the voice, “ARE THESE ‘MINIS’?” Clearly, standing in front of tampon display and yelling loudly is much more fun than racing back and forth.
Glad to see the rest (yes, all the rest) of the customers in the supermarket where entertained.