The Grocery Store and the Belly Laugh

Often, I postpone trips into the "big city" for when Little Miss is home from senior kindergarten.  It's better with company, although she does not go at the speed I would like.  I am perpetually impatient as she loses a mitten, fixes her curls, or gets distracted, "Oh, look, there's a birdie!" But it is nice to have a helping hand.

And since she thinks she is 30-ish, she does the grocery shopping.  I pay, of course, but she loads up the cart, places the items on the cashier's counter, puts them all in bags, and places them back in the cart again.  Two major differences between her and I: she can't reach the produce bags, and I can't ride under the cart handlebars.

And we always give each other a high-five in the end.

*****

Earlier this month, she and I stepped out of the house to go for a walk.  I promptly fell off the edge of the sidewalk.

I stopped.  "Well, I'm ready to go home," I sighed.  She looked up at me, and I down at her.

"That was a terrible beginning," I said, and flashed a crooked smile.  Little Miss blasted out a huge five-year-old belly laugh, and we continued on down the road.  She carried my things for me in case I fell again.

On our next trip to the grocery store, I got the cart jammed in the entrance door.  I grumbled, pushed, and complained about carts, grocery stores, and other stuff, and finally got the cart through the door.

I stopped.  "Well, I'm ready to go home," I sighed.  A light turned on behind her eyes, as Little Miss remembered something.

"You said that before!"  And gave another jolly belly laugh.

We continued on, she, packing the groceries, and I, swiping my chip card.  We packed up, high-fived and got home in time to go to the park.

After about a half an hour at the park, Little Miss tripped on something and lost her balance.  She righted herself, and suddenly grinned.

"Well, I'm ready to go home!" she said.

Gave a big belly laugh, that's what I did!