Today, I had the kids. I raced my daughter over to a birthday in Tribeca, then I took my son over to Barnes & Noble café to work on his book report: DO NOT FEED THE WEIRDO. All was well, until I said to kids, “I’m going to cook dinner for mama tonight,” and we headed into Whole Foods. The minute we walked into the supermarket and I grabbed a cart, all hell broke loose. Rowan wanted to go into the cart. “Rowan no, it’s gonna flip over!” She insisted it was fine. So I surrendered. Then when the cart almost flipped over, and I yelled, I'll told you so. Here response: “What?” Wise guy. 10 going on 16.
“Guys! Get over here,” I yelled chasing them towards the olive bar. Rowan dove for the big silver spoon. As she was about to dive into the kalamata mountain. I stopped them just in time. “Kids, let me do that.” My wife called it stealing, but a sample was okay if you took one to taste properly. Next came the fish section. While I was contemplating what type to buy—cod, arctic char, monk—the kids were clanking glass tarter sauce jars and juggling limes. My heart was pounding. “I’ll have a pound of cod on sale.” He wrapped it, hey guys, let’s go. As I rolled over to get some string beans. They didn’t. Where the fuck are they? There, by the bananas. “Dada, look what we made?” They had blown up the plastic bags and were throwing them up in the air, in between the shopping cart jams. “Guys, enough, that’s it. You’re losing your iPad privileges.” They didn’t like that. “No, we’ll be good. We promise,” they pleaded.
“Okay, we’ll see. So I took off across the store, and they trailed behind me. When I turned around, they looked like chubby elves. Now they had plastic bags under their shirts, and were belly bopping. "Funny, yes, but they were causing a stroller traffic jam. After a while I really couldn’t hear myself think. Then came the crying, screaming, staring, and fighting. “Dada, Rowan put orange slime by my mouth, so I have to taste it when I eat.” Of course Rowan denies it. I wonder where the fuck did she get slime? Then I yell that I don’t care. “You guys figure it out!” And I strolled away. When they became friends again, and the samples the dried mango, and Hunter stuck is arm in the barrel of coffee beans, that was enough. I paid the bill, saved $10 on my fish with Amazon Prime, and headed home.