Negotiating
the aisles, we only swipe a few cans off shelves, have three near-miss trolley collisions,
but crash repeatedly into the checkout whilst trying to maneuver the ensemble
through. We get a few surprised/’cute baby’ looks and a lovely man offers to
push a trolley out to the car.
~~~
The doors
swish open and I push the single trolley with the pre-schooler trotting along –
one toddler is propped up in the seat, the other is in the trolley. By aisle
four she is completely submerged with groceries and can be located only by the
tuft of orange hair sticking out. Once unearthed at the check-out, she emerges
eating an apple and grinning from ear to ear. We get a few ‘cute’ laughs.
~~~
The doors
swish open and my tribe goes bull-rushing in. By the end of aisle one, my two
pre-schoolers and wee school boy have managed to turn the place into a complete
circus and I’m torn between chasing after them and disowning the lot. I
consider abandoning the trolley mid-aisle and making a run for it but, after a
humbling comment from a fellow shopper, who still saw the ‘cute’ side of it
all, I decide to finish the shop, reclaim my children and herd them out of the
store.
~~~
The doors
swish open and my six-year-old twins and I mosey inconspicuously into the
supermarket. Big bro has spotted his friends playing in the park next door and
gone to hang out for the duration of the shop. Halfway down aisle one, Master
Six abruptly snaps into show-off mode. Simultaneously, Miss Six runs and hides
behind my legs.
The cause
of the behavioural change becomes apparent in the produce section. Hinewai*, also
from room 12, is out shopping with her mother. Hinewai spots the twins and the
volume inside the little supermarket rises a few octaves. By the beginning of
aisle two, Miss Six has discarded any shyness and Hinewai’s mother and I have
become acquainted.
Down aisle
three, Hinewai ditches her mother altogether and zooms around my trolley with
her classmates. Hinewai’s mother can faintly be heard calling Hinewai back through
the boxes of cereal and packets of chips separating aisles two and three.
Round the bend,
someone spots Anaru*, also from room 12 and out shopping with his aunty. It is
now like Christmas in the super market as the four students of room 12 animatedly
reunite only less than one hour after they last saw each other. The volume goes
up another few levels and the showing-off is in full-swing. The tribe of four
from room 12 have now taken over the entire supermarket and have the attention
of everyone within, wondering if they’ve wound up in their local supermarket or
the school playground.
The children
are not getting the ‘cute looks’, the laughs are a little forced, everybody is
speechless – there is no point in talking, the racket is such.
As the
doors swish closed behind us, the supermarket is plunged into almost-silence.
And from within, there is, no doubt, a collective sigh of relief.
*Names changed.
No comments:
Post a Comment