One of good things things that happened during the pandemic was the reinvention of grocery delivery. I used to hear about the existence of milkmen in the 1950s and had wished that we had that service today. Now, every week, I get groceries dumped at my front door for the about same price as gas money.

It doesn’t take away all of my need for shopping and a list of miscellaneous items has been building on my refrigerator. Yesterday, I thought I would pop over to two stores with the two kids in the two hours before dinner.

I prepped my children for the activity by asking them to not beg me for items, run in the store, or touch anything. They did pretty well, but the store did not have half of what I needed and all but one of the registers was closed.

At the next store, we only lasted about two aisles in. Ivy suddenly, desperately, needed the bathroom and I quit my search for items to find a store worker. That particular store had a toilet with a keypad code, which apparently had been updated to a code that none of the store workers had. Not knowing how much time a four-year-old has before creating a puddle on the linoleum, we dashed out of the store, abandoning my cart in the middle of the aisle, and ran up to the next open door in the strip mall. That store also had a keypad code and a worker let me into the restroom. The restroom only had one unclogged stall, and that one was occupied. It was a bit of a nail-biter while Ivy danced a jig as we waited for its occupant to finish up. My ten-year-old stood aside pretending not to know us. We made it with moments to spare.

We returned to original store and made our purchases, but by that point I relented on my original “no extras” stance and let the kids pick out an item each. They were somehow fighting about them by the time we were back at the van. Just one final stop for two items and then we’re straight home for dinner. I was already dumping my original meal plans in my mind for frozen nuggets or corn dogs in the toaster oven.

Again, I prepped the kids before we went in. “Stay near me, no yelling, no asking for things.” We shot past the dollar section that usually pulls us in and went straight for the two items. We were back at the register lane in under five minutes with only one party ahead of us.

The minutes started to tick by. Apparently there was a baby or wedding registry involved and several workers consulted the computer. The kids could no longer resist the wall of candy and plastic nonsense strategically placed in their eye-line. The checker called for assistance, Ivy grabbed a bag of trail mix, Eliana grabbed Ivy, I grabbed them both. As calmly as I could, I removed the bag from Ivy’s hand and Ivy from Eliana’s hand. Ivy burst into tears and I scooped her up. Another check stand opened up and drained away some of the line behind me. With one hand I paid for my purchases, the other I scooped up the rubber boots that had been kicked off in the melee. “Yes,” I wanted a receipt, “No” I didn’t want a bag. Eliana shoved both items in my already overflowing purse and expertly slung it on her shoulder.

I preordered pizza on my phone in the parking lot and picked it up on the drive home. We also got soda, full sugar.