I like supermarket shopping.
I wander the aisles, up and down, examining the produce and specials.
I trail in the deli to deliberate over chèvre or camembert, over swordfish or ling. I examine the labels on the back of muesli boxes to ensure I’m getting the healthiest variety and I carefully select the darkest of dark chocolate.
One day I took the kids. Big mistake.
The camembert became cheese slices.
The swordfish became fish fingers.
The trailing in the deli became tantrums in the trolley.
It wasn’t the shopping – no I still love that bit – but the whole experience of shopping with kids in tow.
A 30-minute dash to get bread transformed into a two-hour long saga with toilet stops and nappy changes and snacks to be doled out.
"A 30-minute dash to get bread transformed into a two-hour long saga." Image: Giphy.
A baby bag packed like you are headed on an overseas jaunt – every base covered just in case.
The fighting and the bickering and the “I-WANTS”.
The chasing one down the aisle while the other foot-stamps her way to a Kinder Surprise induced meltdown.