Shopping with Papa Gene

Papa was taking us shopping! It was August and the astronomical temperatures were making even the smallest tasks unbearable – but we had to go to the store. So, Papa Gene had volunteered to take the little ones & I in his new, air-conditioned van! Now, Papa Gene and I were divorced quite some time ago. We had stayed together for many years because of the kids (neither one of us wanted full custody). At first we went at it toe-to-toe. But, after a few years of legal maneuvers & restraining orders, we decided to call a truce. So I jumped at the offer of a ride in his ice cold van!
We were going to the Canned Food Store, & the plan was simple: Papa would slowly push the cart with the kiddos in it down the aisles while I darted around the store, grabbing the items that we needed. “In and out in no time!” Papa beamed. “And, if you’re good, we’ll stop for ice cream on the way home!” Immediately all 3 grandkids swore eternal obedience & sat as still as statues on the ride there. We parked close to the door and darted quickly inside before the blast of heat could affect us. And that’s when the trouble began …
At the Canned Food Store, they have special shopping carts which are designed to keep the little ones amused while the adults are relieved of their Hard Earned Cash. The carts are attached to molded plastic miniature cars, complete with tires & steering wheels. And there was one right inside the front door. The kids pounced on it gleefully, all 3 of them trying to wedge themselves in the tiny car. Aalyiha & Michael could fit inside, but there wasn’t room for 3, and since Zac was the oldest and biggest, I told him he would need to just walk beside the cart. He didn’t like it, but he realized that it would be a tight fit. So I left him and his Papa beside the cart and started to collect what we needed.
As I rounded the corner on my first trip back to the cart, I realized that Papa Gene had lost control of the situation. The little ones inside the cab were fighting like 2 cats in a sack over who would get to ‘steer’ the car. Zac, not wanting to be the only kid having to use his feet, had jumped on the car, straddling the cab with his legs & was bucking back & forth like a Bronc rider, spurring the side windows with his Nike’s and flinging one arm high in the air. He nearly lasted the whole 8 seconds, but I snatched him off by the scruff of his neck. I turned to the occupants of the car, but they had fallen silent, because the Steering Wheel had Come Off in Aalyiha’s Hand!! She climbed out of the car, held up the steering wheel, put her other had on her small hip & flatly stated “We need to tell the Manager.” Immediately Zac spun on his heel, marched to the end of the aisle & bellowed “WE NEED A MANAGER!”
Well, we got the manager, alright, PLUS the Head of Security, A.K.A. the produce guy. As I tried to explain what the ‘emergency’ was, Papa Gene was by the display of Large Print Red Letter Bibles swearing he’d never seen us before in his life. The Manager let us off with a warning, so I gave the kids The Look, stuffed the 2 little ones back in the car & started down the next aisle. Papa Gene slowly pushed the cart behind me, carefully navigating the curve. But just as he turned right, Michael shot his arm out of the cab & caught the corner of the bottom box in a display of breakfast cereal. When I heard the crash, my first impulse was to simply go wait in the van, but it was too hot so I followed the noise to the scene of the crime. Zac was laughing & shouting “Clean up on aisle 3!” while Aalyiha made Toasty-O angels on the floor. When I asked Michael what in the world he was thinking, he replied that since the cart was turning the corner, he had simply put his arm out to signal the turn. I could see Produce Boy heading our way, so I grabbed the cart with what little supplies were in it & got into the check-out line.
Aalyiha tugged on my sleeve, the universal sign for ‘I want to whisper something in your ear’. I bent down. “What are those things sticking out of Papa’s neck?” I patted her on the head
“Those are veins, sweetie.” She tugged again “They weren’t there a while ago.” She said.
“Don’t worry, Papa has medicine that he can take for that.” I tried to be reassuring, but she insisted: “Where is his medicine? Why doesn’t he take some right now?”
“He’ll take it when he gets home – besides, he prefers it on the rocks.”