It couldn’t be helped. Despite my careful planning and my mad organizational skills (what? stop laughing) we were out of milk, and I had to go to Costco. On a Saturday. With all three kids. Because you know, I do everything with all three kids, right? Yeah. It went about as well as expected. (Why did I have to go to Costco rather just a regular grocery store, you might wonder? Because only Costco has milk that tastes “right” for Bean, and only Costco had the 12 packs of English muffins he mainlines. He eats six a day, so you do the math.)
I usually do everything humanly possible to keep from taking Bean to Costco. The regular grocery store is a big enough fiasco, but Costco just becomes comedy gold. The one good thing is, it’s usually so crowded that no one has time or space to marvel at my crazy-making kid and we just move through unobserved. Not Saturday.
It’s good their carts are the size of small nations, because it allows me to contain Abby and still have room for the gross of English muffins we’ll need for the week. (And the 55-gallon drum of milk, because oh my heck, growing boys drink a ton of milk!!) Anyway- in all the chaos and crows, I lost Bean. This is not unusual- remember how he likes to squeeze himself into small spaces and hide? Coscto his his idea of Valhalla. Plus, he’s really smart and very sneaky. Little bugger.
Since they have all their Christmas stuff out, I rant there first- he likes the flashy and shiny. Nope. Then I checked the television section, because they have that new 3D TV and he fixed himself there with the goggles-on-a-stick and didn’t move- not a single freaking muscle- while I had an eye exam a few weeks ago. Nope, not there either. I wasn’t quite set to panic yet- but I my heartbeat was definitely rising as I ran through the crowds and peered down each aisle. Just a footnote: People look at you weird when you cry out “BEAN!! Where ARE you??! Come out now!” in the middle of a store
Then I saw him. Or, rather, I saw the small crowd of people looking up and pointing. In the cold room, you know, where they keep all the milk and eggs and extra behemoth pallets of yogurt? There was Bean, UP THREE RACKS HIGH (go ahead and scroll up to the photo and count three orange steel girders up- go ahead- and tell me what your heart would do).
“Hi MOM!!!” (because remember, it’s always MOM! no matter what he’s saying or doing. My name is an exclamation point.)
Flinging the cart with Abby to Jeffrey, I ran into the cold room, and people parted like the Red Sea. He was already on his way down, completely unfazed by the people watching him. He was still on the top of the second rack, me holding my arms out anxiously below. Ebullient about how close he got the cooler fans in the ceiling he was enthusiastically and loudly proclaiming how awesome they were up close, and did I see how high he was and MOM! that was awesome!
Wrapping my arms tightly around him, I carried him to the cart. He was utterly oblivious to the hubbub he’d caused, and all he could talk about the rest of the day was the cooler fans. We had yet another chat about safety and responsibility and staying with mom- but his eyes were too bright and thrilled with his discovery- and I know mom’s warnings will not hold to candle to the thrill of discovery for this boy. And other than the potential heart attacks it’s going to cause me, maybe that’s not such a bad thing.