Gavin will not be allowed to push his own kid-sized shopping cart ever again or until he's at least twelve. We took him to the recently remodeled grocery store today that now has cute miniature shopping carts or as I like to call them, weapons. Someone thought it would be fun to let him push his own cart. I am not naming the name of that certain someone. Dave. Oops.
Anyway, to say our little boy gets his independence from us is an understatement so I guess we had it coming. We tried to gently help him steer the cart by doing a sandwich maneuver with each of us on either side of the cart. This would allow D and I to help steer, but to Mister Man this was unacceptable. He not only would say, "No Ma" or "No Da" but he would stop the cart, walk around to the side, and remove our hand, repeatedly.
We were doing this in hopes of shielding the rest of the store's customers from the speeding bullet that was behind the cart. However, I think we took the brunt of it. I'm pretty sure I may have a bruise on the back of my leg from a cruising buggy.
There was one thing I did not anticipate from this event. Gavin has always ridden in the front seat of the shopping cart, but with this new-found freedom of being able to walk around, let's just say, "Monkey see, monkey do." He thought it was his duty to help select the groceries. Some items on his list were pickles, yogurt and four chocolate candy bars. I'm deeply grateful that we got out of there without hearing "Clean up on aisle nine."
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