The game begins.
How much time is this sugar cookie going to buy me?
I get one for Sprite every time we go grocery shopping. In fact, it's our first stop in the store. I've also brought diversions in the shape of a stuffed frog and a sippy cup. I have hopes of making it out of the grocery store without having to apologize to anyone.
We meet the bakery rep who is trying to get Sprite to smile. She's holding the cookie in front of her, almost making the treat sway seductively as she asks, "Where's a smile? Do you want a cookie?" Sprite is looking only at the cookie. The lady might as well be speaking Russian. "Cookie for a smile!" I look at Sprite, silently urging her to give the woman a smile, a smirk, a sneeze, anything, just do the trick and you get the treat. No go. In fact, Sprite's eyes squint a little. That's not good. "She just woke up", I explain, running my hand gently over Sprite's hair, tussling it a little bit. Play up the cute. The rep hands over the prize and we escape.
I breeze through Produce, enjoying Sprite's silence as she eats pieces of the cookie and hugs her frog to her, innocence radiating from her person. She looks sweet, her chocolate brown eyes focused on her cookie and her frog and everything is right with the world. "What a sweet little girl!" one elderly woman trills, coming closer. Sprite ducks her head shyly when the woman leans in. The woman laughs and moves on. Passing people smile at us as we make our way into the first aisle. Sprite is still eating her cookie and I hand over another quadrant as soon as one is finished to keep her mood stabilized.
We make it to the cookie aisle before experiencing our first hiccup. I stop in front of the goldfish crackers looking for buy one get one deals to stock up and Sprite has just finished her cookie. There is no more cookie. She sees the fish and leans toward the display, grunting and reaching with her tiny fingers, but not being able to span the 3 foot distance between her and her desires. She begins to whimper. I pull out the sippy cup and wave it in front of her face. Sprite grabs it and starts to drink then her eyes glare at me as she removes the cup from her mouth and promptly throws it on the floor. "No", she states, but her face is telling me so much more. You gave me water. There is no juice in there. You want a challenge, don't you? She hugs her frog tightly, making the frog her alli as she plots against me.
Better pick up the pace. We head down to the meat aisle and the frog slips out of the cart onto the floor. "Uh oh", Sprite says as she looks at me. You're going to get that, aren't you? "Uh oh", I answer as I bend down to pick up her frog and hand it back to her. She hugs the frog fiercely and then holds it in her right hand as she swings the hand and her victim over the right side of the cart again. She looks at me and smiles. Game on.
The frog is released from her hand and is on the floor again. I watch Sprite, who is watching me. I know she likes this frog. She has reached for it on several occasions. Leaving the frog on the floor (Oh, oops. Where did the frog go? We had it a couple of minutes ago...) is not an option. Again, I do her bidding and retrieve her toy. As we keep moving, we keep stopping. As soon as the frog is in her possession, it's hugged tightly, almost in apology for what's about to happen, and then thrown from her perch to make the free fall to the floor.
In a moment of desperation, realizing we're not quite halfway done, I chuck the frog into the cart behind her seat, beyond her reach. Sprite twists around and sees the frog sitting on a carton of eggs and it becomes the most wanted thing in the world. She cries out, loudly, as she reaches for it. In her awkward position, she can't really do more than express her displeasure, and more likely her discomfort.
The elderly woman who praised Sprite's sweetness 20 minutes ago is now giving me the stink-eye because my kid's squeals are making her hearing aid produce feedback. I quickly move Sprite into the freezer aisle and pick out a box of waffles. "Here, touch", I say, smiling as Sprite stops her crying to bring a finger to the box. "Brr, cold", I comment as I look left and right to see if I can find the items I need before she realizes my intent to sidetrack her from her little game. I turn away from the cart and grab a box of frozen spinach and toss them into my stash. I grab the handles and move the cart down the aisle, stealing a look at Sprite. She's leaning to one side, looking behind me and smiling as if Elmo is walking behind us. I steal a look. No Elmo. Just the box of waffles sitting in the middle of the aisle, thrown down while I was ignorantly grabbing veggies. I run back and get the waffles, Sprite clapping as I do exactly what she's intended.
I pick up the pace to get to the last aisle, to get milk. Sprite has now moved on to territory and the fact that my hands are on the handlebar she clearly claimed as her own is not alright with her. She pushes at them. Move your hands, move them now! I try to place them in-obtrusively on the outside edges, but this does not appease her. "Up!" she exclaims. Hold me. "Sorry, sweets, one more aisle to go, then I'll hold you" I whisper as I see the elusive milk. You are not listening! Sprite's fury becomes louder as she turns this way and that in her seat, her gaze falling on the until now forgotten frog and remembering her earlier fun with froggy base jumping. "Uuuunnnhhh!!" Her body is twisting in ways a contortionist would be proud of. I enclose on the dairy, the last things on my list when another cart cuts mine off.
I look up and see my boss pushing HIS two kids towards the same milk I've been so slow to get to. He doesn't see me and I try to stay out of his peripheral. I quickly ration with myself the pros and cons of getting the milk. I get the milk, he spots me, and engages in conversation I know neither one of us wants to have right now. I want to get my squealing kid and my thawing waffles home before we all lose it. I come back later for the milk, I may inadvertently start World War III as Sprite is looking ready to raise an army in her attempt to thwart the child restraint strap and hop into the cart where the frog has been enjoying its downtime. I dart down a side aisle and realize we're back near the cookies. "Cookie!" she now cries, as if the sugar cookie never happened. As her screams get louder yet, I quickly grab a fish bag and open it, putting a couple of crackers in front of her face. Sprite paws them and shoves them into her mouth, sniffling. Buying some silence, I peer back into the milk section. The boss is not there. I run over, fish falling from the open bag onto the floor, and grab the milk.
I keep feeding Sprite crackers as I finally make it to check out. Wearily, I place our purchases on the conveyor belt to be scanned and remember to account for the goldfish I've opened already. "Up!" Sprite says, and I obey, thinking we're so close to done, I'm willing to do whatever she wants. I look around for her frog, thinking I will reunite her with it, and find it riding on the belt with the frozen food. Sprite finds this amusing and laughs as it continues down with the scanned items waiting to be bagged. The cashier tells me the total and I swipe my card into the key pad to finish the transaction, relieved it's over. Oh no, it's not. Sprite leans down in my embrace and presses the bright green I must touch it! button before I can reject the cash back option. The cashier hands me the twenty dollar bill I didn't want along with my receipt and I strap Sprite back into the child seat. She immediately twists around and starts pushing her hand into the bags piling up in the cart.
Almost at the door, she demands to be picked up again. Whatever. I release her from her strap prison and continue out.
"Ma'am! Ma'am?"
I turn around in the parking lot, a heavier by the second Sprite held in my right arm as my left hand is trying to maneuver the cart. A bagger is running towards us with the frog in his hand. I look down at Sprite whose eyes are closing as she clutches me drowsily, an innocent look on her face telling me she did not go through the bags where the frog was safely stowed and toss it out again.
She sighs as we reach the van. In her sigh, I swear I can hear it. "I win".
Game over.
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