Driving Me Crazy

I had to grab a couple things from the grocery store yesterday, so Brooklyn and I stopped at our local Jewel. When we walked in, Brooklyn ran straight for the carts with the car attached to the front. You know, those carts that little kids like to "drive". I usually say no when she begs for one of those carts because the baskets are small and don't hold as much as a regular cart. Plus, they're up higher than other carts. I literally have to stand on my tippy toes to reach the groceries in the bottom of the cart when it's time to pay for them. And these carts are roughly the length of a football field, so it's hard to see around to the front of them and I inevitably end up running into shelves, displays, and slow-moving people. Okay, so maybe I hit the slow-moving people on purpose, but only when they're standing in the middle of the aisle taking up enough room for twelve elephants, and they're completely oblivious to everyone around them.

Anyway, since I only had to pick up a few things, I acquiesced and let her jump into the car cart. I guess Brooklyn was being British because she hopped in the right side to drive. Actually, "hopped in" probably isn't the best way to describe it. These carts don't have doors. Kids have to climb in through the window. So, to put it more accurately, she swung herself into the driver's side (if we were in England, that is) Bo Duke style, then she shouted to me, "Andiamo, Mama!"

"Andiwhat? You speak Italian now???"

"Mom", Brooklyn said in this patronizing tone of a person talking to someone who is completely stupid. "It's not Italian. It's Spanish."

"I see. My bad."

So, Brooklyn steered as I pushed the cart around the store. If anyone got in her way, she beeped her horn. I'd push her really fast toward a display and I'd shout, "Quick turn! You're going to hit the hamburger buns!" Now, she used to play along and turn the wheel really fast to "steer" around the burger bun road hazard. But yesterday, she wasn't in the mood for playing, I guess. She turned around and looked at me and in her best teenager voice said, "(Duh) I was turning (duh) the wheel (duh) to the left (duh) and you were still pushing the cart into the buns, Mom! That's NOT how I was driving!" She was most indignant. I stood there blinking. I was being reprimanded by a four-year-old for being a bad driver.

I finished shopping without teasing Brooklyn about crashing into any more items. When we got in line to check out, she turned around and excitedly showed me the cup holder in the car. "That's for my coffee!" she happily announced.

"Oh how cool you have a cup holder," I agreed.

"I have TWO cup holders!"

"Oh good! You can put your coffee in one and your chocolate milk in the other," I said.

"Mom!" she said as if I had suggested she put her sippy of arsenic in the cup holder. "That cup holder is for my husband!" She enunciated "husband" so everyone in the store could hear her.

I started laughing. "Your husband, huh? I didn't even realize you were married! What's your husband's name?" I asked.

"Bob."

"I see." I giggled to myself as I started unloading groceries from my cart. As I placed items on the conveyor belt, I overheard Brooklyn talking to someone.

"Get in the car NOW or I'm leaving without you! Why don't you have any shoes on?! You're killing me! Get in the car!" Brooklyn was yelling at, well, I wasn't sure who she was yelling at, actually. No one was around us.

"Who are you talking to, Brooklyn?" I asked tentatively.

"I'm talking to my kids. They never listen," she replied, sounding just like an exasperated parent.

I looked up guiltily at the cashier and the lady in line next to us. "I have no idea where she comes up with this stuff," I stammered.

I don't think they bought it.