Miss Rose loves shopping. Actually acquiring new belongings from these shopping trips is somewhat incidental, although balls and shoes are often pounced upon with a rabid desire, but it’s the actual shopping experience she adores.
I admit I try to schedule trips to ASDA around her being unconscious in the buggy, thus depriving her of the excitement of the aisles, purely because it’s so much easier. She adores supermarkets.
She loves to carry the basket. She often has to drag it down the aisles as it becomes too heavy to carry, but getting her to relinquish it to the stronger arms of mummy is a trial in itself. If she isn’t carrying a basket she is inspecting the products, recommending items, or charging around with shrieks of ecstasy. She has very strong opinions on things I ought to buy, and often insists on carrying something rather than putting it in the trolley. This does occasionally result in items being abandoned on the wrong shelf on in the middle of the aisle, which I then have to scurry around after to pick up whilst trying to prevent her disappearing round the corner because she spotted something she wants in someone else’s trolley.
Her absolutely favourite shops are definitely shoe shops. Miss Rose is obsessed with shoes. This morning she had a tantrum because she couldn’t fit her shoes onto my feet. She was so angry. In shoe shops she pulls heels from the shelves, slips her feet in, then toddles around in them with more grace and elegance than many grown women pull off. AND they’re several sizes too big for her. Considering I usually wear ballet pumps or trainers, I don’t know where this love of stilletos has come from. But I won’t lie… I’m impressed by her skills.
A favourite game at home is to pick up a bag, sling it over her shoulder and declare “Shops now, bye bye Mummy!” Then she toddles off into a different room and puts things in the bag, then returns and shows me what she’s bought. Lovely! Adorable!
This evening I was washing up after dinner and she picked up a bag and informed of her intentions to go to the shops.
“Okay honey, have a good time, pick me up some milk!”
“Okay mummy, bye bye!”
I smiled to myself and turned back to the washing up. Then I heard the door go.
My child has some how learned how to unlock the door, let herself out, and was about to head off down the street to ASDA.
Fortunately I heard the door go, and launched myself across the kitchen and through the living room with a shriek of “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” and grabbed her before she actually made it out on to the pavement. “DON’T EVER DO THAT!”
She collapsed into tears “Shop mummmmmmmyyyyyyy”
I felt awful. I had, effectively, given her permission. I had then, having given permission to her to do something, freaked out, screamed at her, and scared the crap out of her for doing the exact thing I had just told her she could do.
Fortunately she recovered from her shock and I shall be taking preventative methods towards preventing her unexpected escape from the property as of tomorrow. Shopping shall be reserved for imaginary games, and the safety of actual shops with actual supervision. Think I’ll save her first solo expedition to the shops for at least a decade. Possibly two. Three if I can swing it.
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Thanks as always for reading, and I’ll speak to you soon I hope!