March 27, 2011

  • I have lots to say, but I've been tasked with telling a story about Grant, and that might be all I get to at this point.

    Yesterday Brian took the kids to the grocery store to order a cake for Madeleine's birthday party.  While he was doing the ordering, he let Grant roam freely around the store.  (Do you see where this is going?  And do you notice a hint of superiority in my tone, clearly implying that I would never have done such a thing?)  After a bit, another customer started laughing.  Brian looked, and there was Grant helping himself to some cake.  There were cakes for sale out where he could reach, and he was able to take off the lid and start digging in.  I asked Brian to describe what Grant was doing, and he says, "He was clawing in with one hand, and then taking it to his mouth."  (His breath sure did smell like yummy chocolate cake when he got home.)  Brian offered to buy it, but the employee just took it away.  Grant came back home to me screaming and with a hand all covered in chocolate crumbs.  I thought that he had hurt his hand (because of the screaming) and was going to kiss it, but then saw all the brown stuff on it.  I suddenly feared that it was poop, as he is notorious for grabbing his poop (and leaving it around the house).  But thankfully no!  It was just the remnants of a destroyed cake. 

    It's so funny!  Brian was mortified of course, and says he's not taking Grant back to the store for 6 months, at least.  I suggested that he just strap him into the cart with the seat belt so helpfully provided by the store.  (Did you detect that tone of motherly superiority again?) 

    Anyway, Grant is attacking me, so I think I'll go.  Lots more to write about later.