Minos is My God
I'm a stubborn, stubborn girl.
I don't need help, your help. I like doing things on my own.
Usually.
Last week, I went shopping at a Kingston grocery store. I also had Little Man with me.
When I go grocery shopping, I refuse to put my babe in those grimy baby seats attached to the top of the cart.
I know what comes out of my Little Man's bum bum. So, I don't want him sitting anywhere where there have been other mustard poo bums. So I put him in his carseat and put the carseat in the grocery cart and pack all the bacon, Pop Tarts, chocolate milk, Diet Coke, Wheat Thins and blocks of old cheese around him.
The other day, I had so many groceries, Little Man had to hold Fruit Roll-Ups for me.
When it came time to bag the groceries and leave the store, I realized I had so much I'd have to take Little Man out and carry him with one hand, pack the cart full and push it with my other hand, and put the pop, bleach and a jug of juice on the rack under the cart.
So, here I am, on a rainy day leaving the store, pushing the cart with one hand, lugging Little Man in his carrier in the other. And, because the pop, bleach and a jug of juice were rolling off of the bottom rack, I had to use one foot to repeatedly kick them back on the shelf.
Sarah Crosbie, three-ring circus. That's me.
As I said, I'm stubborn. I don't need help, your help.
Usually.
But I did that day.
Push the cart. Carry the baby. Kick pop back onto rack so it doesn't fall off.
Push the cart. Carry the baby. Kick bleach back onto rack so it doesn't fall off.
Push the cart. Carry the baby. Kick the jug of juice onto rack so it doesn't fall off.
One, two, three, four, five people walked by me.
"Please," I thought, "let someone ask if they can push my cart to the car."
Six, seven, eight, nine, ten more people walked by me.
"Please," I thought, "let someone ask if they can carry the bleach that's about to roll off again ..."
No one did.
***
The other night, our family ordered the family pack and an extra small Caesar salad from the downtown Minos takeout restaurant at the corner of Barrie and Queen streets. Sure, we're on mat and pat leave and our budget is tight, but sometimes you just need a break from baking chicken fingers for the kiddies, you know?
So, here I am, Super Sarah Crosbie going to pick up our dinner.
I'd told the BF and the kids to come straight home and me, the hero, would go, with Little Man, and get the dinner.
I've been sick and I wasn't thinking straight and I assumed that a whole roasted chicken, a pound of baby back ribs, a large Greek salad, a large rice, a large potato, a cup of gravy, four buns and two pieces of cheesecake, plus that extra Caesar salad, would fit into two bags.
I'd carry Little Man with one hand and dinner in the other.
I got a sweet parking spot right in front of Minos and ran inside quickly so Little Man didn't get wet in the rain.
When I got inside, the man behind the counter, the man who's always there and I've always suspected is somewhat strict, possibly even surly, put one, two, three, four, five bags on the counter.
Panic set in. There was no way I could carry all of this.
Memories of grocery shopping, memories of needing help, gripped me.
I instantly saw myself as a feature on the six o'clock CKWS TV news.
I had only two options.
Option A: Ask the man if I could leave my two-month old baby with him for a second, seven seconds tops, while I ran the bags of food out to my car. That was the worse of the two options. What if someone ran in and kidnapped him? What if he got burned by baby back ribs? What if someone slipped and fell on him? I'd be on the news and my defence would be, "Well, uh, I left him for only seven seconds."
Option B: Run Little Man out to the car, which was parked right in front of the restaurant, lock the doors, run inside, grab the food and run back out. I could do it in less than seven seconds I was sure. But what if, in those seven seconds, someone punched in my window and stole my baby? I'd be on the news and my defence would be, "Well, uh, I left him for only seven seconds."
I stood there in Minos looking dumbfounded.
"Something wrong?" the man behind the counter asked.
"I'm just going to leave the food here for a second while I run my child to the car," I said.
I was parked close enough that I was literally going to be able to keep an eye on my child and roasted chicken at the same time.
"No!" he said, rather assertively.
With that, he summoned the help of another man there, maybe a delivery driver, maybe a friend, maybe a customer, and the two men grabbed my bags, and carried them out to my car.
All that delicious food, plus a dose of chivalry, plus peace of mind, for just $42.90?
So, to you, Mr. Man Behind The Counter, this Kingston mommy thanks you and I'll be back (with more hands next time.)
SarahCrosbie.com gives the mommy-friendliness of the staff at Minos, 340 Barrie St., four thumbs up (two of mine, two of Little Man's.)
Just one more thing: Man Behind The Counter – where and when do you do your grocery shopping?
There might be more(or not)
I don't need help, your help. I like doing things on my own.
Usually.
Last week, I went shopping at a Kingston grocery store. I also had Little Man with me.
When I go grocery shopping, I refuse to put my babe in those grimy baby seats attached to the top of the cart.
I know what comes out of my Little Man's bum bum. So, I don't want him sitting anywhere where there have been other mustard poo bums. So I put him in his carseat and put the carseat in the grocery cart and pack all the bacon, Pop Tarts, chocolate milk, Diet Coke, Wheat Thins and blocks of old cheese around him.
The other day, I had so many groceries, Little Man had to hold Fruit Roll-Ups for me.
When it came time to bag the groceries and leave the store, I realized I had so much I'd have to take Little Man out and carry him with one hand, pack the cart full and push it with my other hand, and put the pop, bleach and a jug of juice on the rack under the cart.
So, here I am, on a rainy day leaving the store, pushing the cart with one hand, lugging Little Man in his carrier in the other. And, because the pop, bleach and a jug of juice were rolling off of the bottom rack, I had to use one foot to repeatedly kick them back on the shelf.
Sarah Crosbie, three-ring circus. That's me.
As I said, I'm stubborn. I don't need help, your help.
Usually.
But I did that day.
Push the cart. Carry the baby. Kick pop back onto rack so it doesn't fall off.
Push the cart. Carry the baby. Kick bleach back onto rack so it doesn't fall off.
Push the cart. Carry the baby. Kick the jug of juice onto rack so it doesn't fall off.
One, two, three, four, five people walked by me.
"Please," I thought, "let someone ask if they can push my cart to the car."
Six, seven, eight, nine, ten more people walked by me.
"Please," I thought, "let someone ask if they can carry the bleach that's about to roll off again ..."
No one did.
***
The other night, our family ordered the family pack and an extra small Caesar salad from the downtown Minos takeout restaurant at the corner of Barrie and Queen streets. Sure, we're on mat and pat leave and our budget is tight, but sometimes you just need a break from baking chicken fingers for the kiddies, you know?
So, here I am, Super Sarah Crosbie going to pick up our dinner.
I'd told the BF and the kids to come straight home and me, the hero, would go, with Little Man, and get the dinner.
I've been sick and I wasn't thinking straight and I assumed that a whole roasted chicken, a pound of baby back ribs, a large Greek salad, a large rice, a large potato, a cup of gravy, four buns and two pieces of cheesecake, plus that extra Caesar salad, would fit into two bags.
I'd carry Little Man with one hand and dinner in the other.
I got a sweet parking spot right in front of Minos and ran inside quickly so Little Man didn't get wet in the rain.
When I got inside, the man behind the counter, the man who's always there and I've always suspected is somewhat strict, possibly even surly, put one, two, three, four, five bags on the counter.
Panic set in. There was no way I could carry all of this.
Memories of grocery shopping, memories of needing help, gripped me.
I instantly saw myself as a feature on the six o'clock CKWS TV news.
I had only two options.
Option A: Ask the man if I could leave my two-month old baby with him for a second, seven seconds tops, while I ran the bags of food out to my car. That was the worse of the two options. What if someone ran in and kidnapped him? What if he got burned by baby back ribs? What if someone slipped and fell on him? I'd be on the news and my defence would be, "Well, uh, I left him for only seven seconds."
Option B: Run Little Man out to the car, which was parked right in front of the restaurant, lock the doors, run inside, grab the food and run back out. I could do it in less than seven seconds I was sure. But what if, in those seven seconds, someone punched in my window and stole my baby? I'd be on the news and my defence would be, "Well, uh, I left him for only seven seconds."
I stood there in Minos looking dumbfounded.
"Something wrong?" the man behind the counter asked.
"I'm just going to leave the food here for a second while I run my child to the car," I said.
I was parked close enough that I was literally going to be able to keep an eye on my child and roasted chicken at the same time.
"No!" he said, rather assertively.
With that, he summoned the help of another man there, maybe a delivery driver, maybe a friend, maybe a customer, and the two men grabbed my bags, and carried them out to my car.
All that delicious food, plus a dose of chivalry, plus peace of mind, for just $42.90?
So, to you, Mr. Man Behind The Counter, this Kingston mommy thanks you and I'll be back (with more hands next time.)
SarahCrosbie.com gives the mommy-friendliness of the staff at Minos, 340 Barrie St., four thumbs up (two of mine, two of Little Man's.)
Just one more thing: Man Behind The Counter – where and when do you do your grocery shopping?
Labels: food, Little Man, Minos, mommy-friendliness
There might be more(or not)
