What happens when you get too comfortable with parenting.

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    The supermarket fun begins

    I’ve got two young kids and so far I think I have this parenting thing under control some of the time. I’m not saying I’m the world’s best parent, but most of the time I’m pretty much on top of things (excluding  the daily “arsenic hour” of course!). And so began another trip to the supermarket with a 4 year old and an 18 month old. My usual tactic of distracting them with various snacks as we made our way up and down the aisles had worked pretty well. No one had screamed (myself included), we hadn’t received any glares from grumpy old ladies, and we were all intact.  The finish line was in sight.

     

    As we got to the checkout, I saw what I thought was the latest copy of a magazine I sometimes like to read. You know, in all that “me time” we get as busy Mums (insert sarcasm)? The person in front of us was unloading their groceries onto the checkout belt, so I knew we had a couple of minutes to wait. And so I foolishly reached out and grabbed the magazine from the stand to flip quickly through the pages.

     

    Faster than lightning

    It took about 1.7 seconds. That’s all. I barely had time to digest what month the magazine was from and BAM.

     

    I saw the motion out of the corner of my eye, before my brain had a chance to fully register what was going on.  Mr 18 months, who had just 1.7 seconds previously been sitting contentedly in the trolley seat, had snapped around, leant into the trolley and grabbed the first thing his little hands could reach.

     

    Was it a carton of milk?

    No.

    Was it a robust bag of potatoes?

    No such luck.

    What about the bag of carrots?

    Nope.

    It was a carton of eggs.

    An 18 pack carton of free range eggs. An EIGHT DOLLAR carton of eggs.

    The most fragile thing in the ENTIRE TROLLEY.

    So many questions were going through my mind at that point in time.

    Why did I buy an 18 pack of eggs (for the first time ever)?

    Why did I put them on the TOP of the pile in the trolley?

    Why did I look away for just 1.7 seconds?

    Why didn’t he grab the potatoes?

     

    Cleaning up

    I quickly extracted the now empty egg carton from his hand and surveyed the damage. Amazingly only one was completely smashed but the broken shell was still holding together enough so I could pluck it from the top of the bag of carrots and plop back into the carton. Numerous others were cracked and a wee bit leaky. Somehow the supermarket gods were still smiling at me and there was not an enormous pile of raw egg sitting on the floor! I’m sure if my husband was with me he would have made a cheeky suggestion to *ahem* return the carton to the shelf. However that’s not my style! So I put them all in the carton and started unpacking the trolley.

     

    Making the most of it

    Once we got home I surveyed the full extent of the damage.

     

    1 egg smashed.

     

    9 eggs cracked.

     

    8 eggs intact!

     

    Surely it was some kind of egg smashing miracle.

     

    I broke the 9 cracked ones into a bowl and decided we were having frittata for dinner!

    And that magazine? Turns out I had read it before anyway!

     

     



    About the author

    Chelsea Papadopoulos is a Mum of 2 living in Perth. She runs an online shoe boutique, Tiptoe & Co  and now avoids buying cartons of 18 eggs.

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