Skip to main content

Stroller Mishaps and Small Pickpockets

Stumbled upon this little gem ... a mom arrested for forgetting to pay for her sandwich when checking out at the grocery store. What mom hasn't had her darling creatures throw a few little goodies in her basket at the grocery? Who among us haven't found a lone banana or small item in the stroller seat after a push through for milk? And who hasn't had a moment of blankness in their pregnancy? Empathy was not the code word in this story.

Comments

Anonymous said…
Oh yes! The zombie mind of the new parent can lead to a criminal record. And those little darlings in the buggy couldn't care less. Leave them at home and fit in a manicure around the tedious and expensive grocery trip...
Anonymous said…
So unfair, if you think about the amount of shopping you leave at the checkout over the course of the first 3 years due to baby brain and toddler tantrums it must balance out?! I remember being so paranoid about forgetting the baby I left my entire grocery shop behind once, I got as far as the car before the security guard caught up with me, carrying all my bags!
Manhattan Mama said…
So true anonymous. Zombie mind. Apt description. And FNB - I did that exact thing once, leaving the shop behind. Sometimes it's a toss up: remembering the creature vs. the goods.

Popular posts from this blog

The Grim Reaper

Firstborn is obsessed with death. It started with the odd comment, such as; "Mummy, what happens when you die?" OK, I thought, I was expecting this at some point, what a cute little curious brain she has. So I trotted out all the cosy Heaven stuff and left out all the things that could worry her, such as worms and bones and holes in the ground. This went down pretty well, although somehow Firstborn made the jump from my view of Heaven (filled with love, joy, always warm, never rains, has a huge discount designer shoe outlet and I never have to pay my Visa bill) to her own view of Heaven; a wonderous place where small girls don't have to eat their vegetables before they're allowed pudding, and where Barbie dolls grow on trees. Anyway, I digress. Last week Firstborn started shouting "Kill! Kill!" in a bloodthirsty tone while bashing her hithero-beloved teddy against the wall. This was topped by her purposely flushing her favourite My Little Pony down the loo. ...

What Price Romance?

Let's talk romance for a moment. Manhattan Mama clearly feels deprived in this department and this is one of the most bewildering aspects of life with her. My latest attempt to remedy this is to make a reservation at A Voce--some interpretation of Tuscan cuisine--that the NYT recently gave three very optimistic stars. I've been a few times on my employers expense, so I know it's nice but I also know what it's going to cost. I'm thinking lucky if we get out of there for less than $150. Tack on another $50 for the babysitter. Then drinks, cabs, etc. Better not to do the math. It's not that MM wouldn't be perfectly happy with a kabab or a trip to the hipster taqueria, maybe some flowers from the corner stand. None of that would register in her mind as this mythic thing know as a DATE, and thus would win me no more points on her end than remembering to take down the recycling. Making a DATE means you're thinking of her, which means you're engaged with h...