Originally posted in September 2008
If you follow Richy’s Twitter, you may have seen this cyber-whine Friday night… I have been waiting since then to tell the story.
So, it’s been pretty slim pickings around here for a while… in a financial sense. So we’ve been paying bill by bill and then buying one or two grocery items at a time, and I’ve gotten pretty creative with the pantry contents. So on Friday, manna came from heaven and we were off to Wal-Mart. Now, you may recall a few weeks ago, Toby took a header out of a shopping cart. In an effort to spend less time at the ER, the MOG has been accompanying me on grocery trips. Usually, this is helpful in a manpower sense, and not at all helpful in a budgetary or morale-lifting sense. He hates Wal-mart with the fire of a burning sun.
He was in an especially good mood, though, pondering the excellencies of Christ and also means of taking over the internet as we browsed the aisles.
Before we got out of the car, I asked him, “Do you want me to add anything to the list for you? Are you out of anything?”
“No, no,” he replies. “I don’t want anything.”
I had an extensive list I was attacking… a list I had labored over during long weeks of broke-ness. And I, being a June Cleaver type, was buying things like meat and bread, onions, flour…
As we made our way through the store, I asked again, two more times, “Is there anything you want? Lunchmeat, maybe?”
“No.” he answers, staring off into space, or maybe the Kingdom.
So we finish our trip, and I am deliriously happy to have so many ingredients to work with. Since it was a long day, the children and I just have PBJs (“Do you want one?” I ask him. “No, I’m not hungry,” he says.) and then I hose the kids down and put them to bed. I am then reveling in my first 15 minutes of freedom, complete with a caffeine-free Coke and a Hershey bar, when the MOG shows up. (ominous music)
“What am I supposed to eat?” asks the 30 year old father of three.
I am taken aback. “Uh, a sandwich?” I offer.
“Do we have mayonnaise? Do we have sliced cheese?”
“I don’t know. Do we?”
“Okay, then, how about one of your burritos?”
“Do we have salsa?”
“Uh, no… but we have sour cream, and jalapenos…”
“You spent all that money and there is nothing for me to eat??”
“Maybe a PBJ… or we have bacon, eggs…”
“You’re supposed to know what I need!”
“Well, I asked you…”
“No, you should know!!”
“Okay, fine. I’m going back to my internet and my candy bar. Figure it out.”
So he eats a solitary container of yogurt.
(for all you mama-types out there, he’s been eating fine since then, as long as he doesn’t have to make it for himself….)