Today, I did the grocery shopping.
Or as we say here in Donegal, “I got a few messages“.
I had a full 30 minutes in the supermarket, without the babies.
It was thoroughly enjoyable.
It was quiet.
It was, dare I say, relaxing.
Like a holiday in fact.
If I had been allowed to sit in aisle 7 with a glass poured from one of the many bottles of wine that lined it, I may even have been able to get that “holiday feeling” you only get with daytime tipples in the sun.
Obviously, I didn’t drink wine in the supermarket.
Instead, I bought the “messages” to keep my wee family fed for another few days.
I bought the meat…(sausages and all, despite all the ranting on the radio today about a certain Friday night talk show host…)
I bought the fruit; lots of it since Mini-Me has decided that she only eats “fwoot” now, not dinner.
I bought the vegetables; fresh and frozen.
And then I went to collect my first born from her ballet class.
We were driving home.
“Can we go to Gwanneee’s house for TEN minutes?”
“Yes, but we can only stay for ten minutes because I have frozen stuff in the bags.”
And then she belts out a scream of excitement so loud that she’s either a) seen Santa Claus or b) seen a unicorn.
I almost crash the car, such is the volume of the scream.
“OH…MY…G!!” she gushes with utter dramatics.”I CAN’T BEWEEEEEVE YOU BOUGHT ME FROZEN STUFF. YOU ARE THE BEST MAMMY EVER!”
I’m completely confused. (This morning I’m pretty certain she told me I was “not my fwend.”)
And then I realise that when I say “frozen stuff”, I think this…
And when Mini -Me hears “Frozen Stuff”, she thinks this...
And if you look closely, you’ll see that when I Googled “frozen stuff” to search for images for this blog, Google thinks the same as my 4 year old.
My daughter is obviously a genius.
My daughter and Google are on the same wave length.
My wave length?
I’m still stuck on holidays on aisle 7.
I am Stuff-that-is-frozen Mum❄❄⛄⛄❄❄
Follow me on Facebook here.