Sprog 2 graciously agreed to accompany me to the supermarket this morning so long as she could sit in the trolley the whole time. Ah, freedom at last! The expedition went horribly awry when she started digging around the trolley for her half-eaten cheese & bacon roll (I know, I know, not a responsible food choice, but I was so thrilled she’d finally agreed to eat something after two sustenance-free days) and caused an avalanche of all the produce I’d stacked high around her. An 800g can of crushed tomatoes made a sizeable dent in her shin and good humour. I froze in terror: Sprog 2’s tears are not something to be provoked in a public place. I swear, you’ve never heard anything so ear-piercingly loud in your life. I’ve learned that clapping my hand over her mouth is NOT the way to handle the situation, as it usually leads to heightened hysteria (surprise, surprise). Instead, I now gently suggest that it’s ok to cry, but could she possibly do it at a slightly lower decibel. Reasoning with a five-year-old … yeah, like that’s going to work. So I generally resort to avoiding eye contact with the many elderly shoppers staring at me in disbelief and annoyance that I’ve ruined their peaceful grocery-procuring experience, while hoping valiantly there’ll be a stall offering goodies for us to sample (oooh, look, Sprog 2 … free ice-cream!). Fortunately, she decided to just fix her tear-filled eyes on me reproachfully for the next 10 minutes instead of wailing. On the way out, we stopped into the chemist to get the medication the doctor had prescribed for Sprog 2 … $45 later (WTF?) we headed home to watch more Bananas in Pyjamas repeats while I shuffled the baked beans cans in the pantry. Again.
TONIGHT’S MENU: Malaysian beef curry – panic it’s too hot for the kids, so frantically create … butter chicken. Sides: roti, rice, veg. Dessert: apple & blackberry crumble. Sprog 1’s verdict: yum. Sprog 2’s verdict: yuck.
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