Life has its struggles, some which are mitigated by shopping at No Frills with my boy, Noah River.
Once inside the store, we head over to the vegetable and fruit section, grab a half-dozen apples and peel stickers from two of them. We put them on our noses. Months ago, Noah refused to go along with my antics but has since acquiesced. This sets the tone for the rest of our supermarket adventure and puts a smile on the faces of grumpy shoppers.
We choose our yellow peppers, celery, lettuce and tomatoes. Noah puts them in the plastic bags. Sometimes a tomato falls and rolls away. He’ll ask me to purchase stuff like kale. We never eat it. I hate throwing out food.
As we roll along, shopping-friends stop and ask us how we’re doing. We’ll say to them: “Oh do, we have stickers on our noses?” The funny people will say, “Yes, how much do you guys cost?” We say, “$2.95.” Sometimes we’re $4.00.
Noah and I say hello to Pat, a store manager, and the people who work the floors. They all know us. It’s nice. The store has become a place for us to hang our hats, be silly and accepted. Recently, I shopped by myself. Some of the employees frowned and wondered aloud where my little guy was.
There are several supermarket activities you can share with your toddler. Find a quiet aisle, line up your cart and giving it a good, solid and sensible push. Me and my boy do this a bunch of times. As he roles away, Noah lets out a booming “weee,” which is quite audible to shoppers aisles away.
Other times, weaving our way through the plastic doors, we’ll check out the back room, where products are stocked. The guys back there show us, with great respect, how the stacker works and why boxes don’t implode into each other. That’s when Noah stops, concentrates, and his beautiful brown eyes open widely. In those eyes, you can see hundreds of questions.
When I used to shop with my Aunt Sylvia at a bulk-food place, we would always taste-test a couple of chocolates, a sort of petty thievery. Since I had my little boy, I’ve amended my ways. Instead, Noah and I drink products off the shelf while we shop, which we pay for later. One per cent chocolate milk is our drink of choice.
Our shopping list is pretty consistent and includes soya dinners, whole wheat pasta, goat milk, cheese (cheddar or havarti). Noah is a vegetarian. (‘Do vegetarians eat animal crackers?’ – author unknown)
Every week, Noah can choose a new product. He chose apple cider once. I’m not fond of it. It sits quietly unused in an empty cupboard.
Our supermarket has a relaxed environment. Once we’ve paid for and bagged our groceries, we’ll find an empty check out and I’ll plop Noah down on the conveyor belt. I press the button that makes it move, and Little Man rides back and forth without interruption. People who looked cheerless, smile.
When Noah and I shop, we see women carting around three or more children, shopping assiduously, sometimes with two carts. They work hard. Noah and I talk to Filipino families, Russians, Israelis, Jamaican moms and East Indian shoppers.
We see older men and women on their own. Many will speak Yiddish to my boy. You can detect loneliness in a supermarket.
Shopping for our food takes one hour. When it’s done, we return the cart and get our quarter back, and take the stickers off our noses. We hug each other.
$84.54 later, life is just fine.
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