…Waitrose. Which was fortunate as they were very nice about the whole affair. Fifi has been walking since Christmas, this means she is incredibly good and can run really fast in a sort of ‘old lady’ manner. It looks incredibly sweet. She also loves food. What was I thinking?
It was a bright sunny morning, I had a few minutes without Toddler boy. Frankly I couldn’t be bothered with the pushchair. Fifi can walk so I strolled gently and quietly and slowly into the store. That was when she broke ranks and ran. “Me, me, me MOOOOOREEEE”. The apples delicately and pleasingly displayed at toddler height were obstruction free. I could almost see them quiver. Before I could even move, well, I was sort of, rooted to the spot at the horror as it unfolded, about 20 finest top quality organically and fair tradedly apples were strewn across the floor of the shop. Old ladies and geriatric men were bowled over. Literally. Who was I kidding when I thought no-one saw the incident and quickly scooped her up, fist clenching an apple and moved to a different aisle.
I put the little one down again and before I knew it she was back rampaging. I will have you know that is hard to hold a bucking, wrenching baby, a basket and my fair trade organic cotton shopping bag all at the same time. Still, nothing really in reach until we reached THE EGGS.
Now, I admit, this was my fault entirely but I was momentarily distracted. Should I buy the essentials free range eggs? Or the East Anglian eggs? or the….. Oh. My. God. I look down, Fifi is surrounded by packets of eggs, the contents of which are sort of swimming on the floor around her. To be fair, she is gamely attempting to scoop them back up and put them back. Creating a sort of additional mess as more and more boxes of eggs enter the fray.
Whenever this s0rt of thing happens the temptation is to run away. However, this is Waitrose, St Albans. Its a small world. Before I know it, I’ll get a reputation for running away and leaving a very expensive mess. Usually Waitrose, St Albans has more staff than shoppers. I know, i’m often in there. I see them. Today there was no one in sight. I suspect they were all laughing at me on the CCTV. So I shouted, gamely “help, errr, help”. Another more organized mum came over. Baby behaving in the trolley in a way that neither of my children do (unless they are busy rummaging through a packet of Haribo’s). ” I’ll get help” she said it kindly, but looked a bit smug. I stood there reduced to being a lemon. Old people, slowly cruising past the scene commenting.
The assistant came over ” don’t worry madam, no problem”.
” Shall, I pay? I don’t mind paying…” surveying about £40 worth of eggs”. I did mind paying and was secretly wetting myself as I would have to put back most of the shopping to pay. “Absolutely not, no that’s fine” I could see him thinking to himself; step away from the eggs madam, step away, code 9
And so, I made my exit, holding my head high despite the snooty commenting. Valuable lessons learn’t; Never let a teeny tiny toddler loose in a supermarket. Always shop in a higher end supermarket, it often works out cheaper.