He pauses to consider and I stand to leave thinking the issue resolved.
"But Mom, we did that last week."
Perhaps a bit more sharply than I meant to, I say "It's an on-going break, Noah!"
This isn't the first time I have had to curtail his desire for social interaction and play-dates. As we spend more time in VT, away from his social networks in CA, Noah and Addie both look for new ways to make friends anywhere they can.
If I thought an outing to the La Crescenta Ralph's with its 1/2 dozen child-size grocery carts was difficult, try taking my 3 currently under-socialized kids to a small town grocery store with only 2 fire engine grocery carts to its name. Do you know what I do right after I slip the car into park outside the store? I mean, besides wish for an inhaler and earplugs. I pray. I pray that Shaw's has seen fit to make at least one of its red fire truck carts available for our use. You know why? Because, not even that quiet, oblivious place in my head I go to in moments of great stress where the mantra of "if I look around blankly, maybe they won't notice me" will keep me safe from Noah screaming his outrage and accusing the near-by grocery clerk of grave injustices done to him and his sisters or Addie from screaming in support of Noah's frustration and Kenzie crying at the universal disappointment of being a 3rd child.
Let's assume though, for a moment, that we pass this first hurtle without incident and I can pull from every corner of my being the willpower needed to bypass the alcohol aisle. We make our way slowly through produce and onto the Deli, at which point I am just starting to regain confidence in my ability to handle my children and remember that this is a perfectly normal jaunt to the grocery store. It is at this moment, this "I can be a good mother" moment that Noah screams in Addie's face "I said 'No', put that back, now, Addie", which, of course, only elicits one of Addie's more ear-piercing screams and stops the 5 most immediate shoppers dead in their tracks with their hands over their ears. Lunch meat? Who needs deli meats anyway? I quickly recount the contents of our fridge and bread products. There's nothing wrong with peanut butter quesadillas I conclude and we move on. Instead of the 5 essentials on my grocery list, we are now prioritizing 2: milk and diapers. We move on to the diary aisle where Noah's social radar locks on to a 6-yr-old girl and Addie's onto her not-much-younger-than-Addie- herself little brother. From the far end of the aisle where Noah first spots them, he yells "Hi, what's your name?" The conversation progresses no less quietly from there. As we get closer to this unsuspecting family, Noah continues to make small talk with the little girl who seems less than tolerant of Noah's pursuits. Meanwhile, Addie is collecting yogurts from the nearest shelf and proudly placing them next to the little boy sitting in the front seat of the cart. "Tank 'em" ('thank you' and 'you're welcome' in Addie language) she says with each gift, proud of her voluntary efforts to share. Fortunately for us, the children's mother shows remarkable patience with my kid's social on-slaught and encourages her daughter to address Noah's fire-squad questions. Addie has now amassed a grouping of yogurts that reach the boys chest and is clapping her hands and holding them out to the boy in a gesture I recognize as "I want to hold him". Trying to explain that the boy is roughly her size and doesn't need to be held like MacKenzie only gets me two additional screams and a defiant toddler who abruptly plants herself on the dairy aisle floor in protest. At this point, I grab whatever milk is close at hand, mutter apologetically to the other mother something about my socially awkward kids, forget about diapers, find my way through checkout and make it back to my car.
In the car on the way home, as I struggle to rehearse all the many reasons I love my children, Noah says,
"Mom, I really liked them."
"Liked who, Noah?"
"Our friends from the grocery store. We should call them for a play-date."
" Sure, Noah, maybe their Mom won't mind peanut butter quesadillas on the outdoor patio, which is where I'll have to keep you naked until I can manage a return trip for diapers."
Now, lest you think I am a light-on-discipline parent, who lets her kids walk all over her in a grocery store, I suggest you ask any parent whether they haven't had several moments as parents where it just seems easier to sweep the embarrassment of their children's behavior out the door, restore mental balance and well-being to their psyche and address the issue in the privacy of their car.
