Choo choos at the grocery store
by Jennifer Cohron
Jan 08, 2012 | 1482 views | 0 0 comments | 13 13 recommendations | email to a friend | print
Jennifer Cohron
Jennifer Cohron
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Shopping with Wyatt used to be easy. He snoozed in his carrier the whole time we were in a store.

Then he learned to walk/run.

He looked so cute waddling around that Zac and I started letting him out of the buggy occasionally. I should have listened to my mother when she said this was a bad idea.

Once Wyatt got a small taste of freedom, he craved it more and more. Now he refuses to stay strapped in for very long when we go shopping.

Wyatt uses a combination of tactics to get us to set him loose.

He cries until we can’t concentrate on anything else. He wraps his little arms around our necks. Then if we still haven’t gotten his point, he wiggles out of the seat belt and stands up while the cart is in motion.

We eventually had to purchase a tiny monkey backpack with a leash on it. Yes, I used to think they were ridiculous too until I found myself chasing a red-headed little boy from aisle to aisle.

Shopping with Wyatt still requires a tag team.

On Dec. 26, I found myself on a solo mission. Zac was working and I had to take Wyatt out so we would have something to cook that night.

I had high hopes as we left the house but had to backtrack almost immediately because I had neglected to bring snacks and a sippy cup.

My next mistake was to drive to a store I am unfamiliar with because it was the closest and would not be packed with people returning Christmas presents.

Then I left Wyatt’s toy laptop in the car rather than bringing it inside for him — another rookie mistake.

My cell phone kept him occupied for a few minutes. Later, I entertained him with “Mambo No. 5,” which was playing on the overhead speakers as we made a U-turn on the drink aisle.

Hey, a mama’s got to do what a mama’s got to do.

A craving for Stove Top turned out to be my Achilles’ heel. I couldn’t find it and the young stock boy I asked for help had apparently never heard of stuffing in a box.

It was shortly before or after this conversation that Wyatt noticed a Christmas train on top of a freezer in the back.

My son is all boy, so he loves trains. Whenever he sees or hears one, he grins, pulls an imaginary whistle in the air and goes “Whoo whoo!”

I acknowledged the pretty train while moving right along, but that incident with the Stove Top had cost me precious time.

Wyatt was ready to roam once we made it to the frozen section. Unfortunately, I had left his monkey at home.

Although Wyatt usually stuck close to me, I faced a dilemma each time he put too much distance between us.

Running off to catch him meant leaving the buggy, in which was stashed the diaper bag that contained, among other things, my wallet.

Since Wyatt is priceless, I just kept an eye out for pickpockets while retrieving my child.

I tried putting him back in the cart a few times. He fussed so much that it sounded like I was kidnapping him. Finally, I admitted defeat.

I started yanking the stuff I needed off shelves so that I would be available to chase after Wyatt when necessary.

One of his shoes bought me some extra time. It kept coming off and he always froze in his tracks until I put it back on for him.

One such incident occurred in front of the wiener case. Wyatt bolted immediately after his shoe had been returned.

Although I should have known where we were going, I was both surprised and amused when I found him standing in front of the train screaming “Whoo whoo!” while pulling his imaginary whistle as hard as he could.

Wyatt didn’t have a care in the world. He proudly let out a stream of “Whoo whoo!”’s right there in the middle of the store as multiple customers maneuvered around him.

Somehow I managed to pull him away and finished the rest of my shopping.

When we made it to the checkout line, he wanted to help put all of our items on the belt for the cashier. Then he casually handed her a couple of $2 bills out of my wallet.

I could almost hear him telling her to keep the change.

My kid is really something else.