The past few weekends we have worked to divide and conquer the weekend chores.
One of my chores has been the grocery shopping.
Call me a freak, but I love grocery shopping. OK, I really like shopping in general, but as someone who likes to cook, I really, really like grocery shopping.
I like looking at new products. I like creating menus in my mind. I like seeing what is fresh and in-season. Grocery shopping trumps vacuuming ANY day in my book.
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Apparently, though, my love for grocery shopping has rubbed off on my son. The last 2-3 weeks I have hauled him along.
He has the routine down. We hit the fruits and veggies, where I pretty much give him free reign to pick out whatever he wants in some hope that it will translate to him actually eating the items he picks out.
He picked out a "kineapple" (pineapple) the other day. I love pineapple. My son? Notsomuch. I know this because I have pushed it on him for nearly three years and have been met with resistance every.single.time.
"No," I said, "we aren't buying a pineapple because you won't eat it, and it is too much for mommy to eat the whole thing."
"I will eat it," he whined.
"No," I said.
"Yes, I will," he whined. "You can cut the pokeys off!"
OK. He sold me. We bought the pineapple.
The other morning we had to make a quick run to Walgreens on the way in for the day. He was so excited to go to the store, but very disappointed to find out that there really wasn't much food there.
We left, and he immediately squealed, “Yay! We get to go to the food store now!"
Of course, he was horribly disappointed when I said "No." We were instead going to school.
Oh, and he didn't eat that pineapple.