The Supermarket

The stay at home mom looks at me and my daughter in the meat isle. I am a handsome man. I am even more handsome because having a daughter means that I can commit. I become even more handsome than that because I go shopping with my daughter. I don’t know why, but single stay at home moms seem to think so. I am an attractive catch and she cannot keep her eyes off me. I know that I am being undressed in her mind but I do not feel violated.

Every Monday Little Hoss and I do the grocery shopping. It helps out at home so that my wife can focus on throwing up with our new pregnancy. It’s also some good QT with my daughter. I want her to recognize that superdad does whatever is needed. It’s not my fault if the honey’s like it.

Our trips begin with the little girl in my arms. Seriously, who cannot love this picture. Great big dad carrying small little peanut? I think that the single ladies in the store have this sixth sense for stuff like this. We grab a cart, in little hoss goes, and we cruise the aisles.

We start as everyone does in the fruit isle. This is where we play a game that my daughter likes to call Apple Bowling. I’m sure you have played. It’s when dad gets to close to the stacked apples and my daughter, who cannot control herself, grabs the one on the bottom of the pyramid and sends the whole lot crashing to the floor. I do what everyone else in this situation does, I quickly look around to see who saw me and then flee the scene like I’m a carjacker. We have laid waste to the vegetable side of the store many times.

On to the spaghetti aisle. We love spaghetti in my house. We love the stains on my clothes. We love the noodles. We love the noodles being thrown on my dogs head. We love the meet sauce being flung on the wall. We love everything about it and it is a Hossman family carnival. We don’t go for homemade pasta sauce. Most of our family makes this with big chunks of veggies in it and we can’t stand it. We like the factory processed paste, straight and simple. Give me Ragu Garlic essence over homemade tomato bomb any day of the week. I let my daughter pick out the type of spaghetti which she loves doing. I close my eyes, steer close to the numerous packages, which ever one she grabs, that’s what we get. Everyone works in this family, no slackers. There are the occasional times when she will grab a package and quickly tear it open with her piranha like teeth. Yes, the dried noodles go everywhere. Have you ever tried putting those things back in the plastic? Try it, can’t be done. So we put it back on the shelf for the next unsuspecting sap to come along, grab the package, and do the same dance. It’s good times all around.

Frozen food next. She doesn’t like this, hates the cold. She wants no part of this so I quickly grab an assortment of frozen veggies for us. Maybe broccoli, maybe corn, who knows, that’s part of the fun. We know that we have to have a veggie with every meal and one is as good as the other. I’ll woof it down right with her because Hossmom says it’s good to eat our vegetables.

The baby food isle is the biggest rip-off in the whole store and drives me crazy. I know that as soon as the word “baby” is attached to anything it’s an immediate 50% markup. They know that parents are suckers and will buy anything for their kids. I try to fight this as a one man revolution but even I succumb to this. I buy the pasta even though it looks like the same crap I just got a couple isles over. I am the chief of sucker town because I know that I am a sucker, I do not deny this.

Milk and cheeses are one of our favorite aisles. There are so many colors, so many textures and it’s right next to the meat selection and hot single mom station. Little of this, little of that and we are off. She get’s whole milk which I no longer have a taste for. It feels like drinking syrup, but the doc says get it so we do.

Welcome to the meat isle and there is hot single mom. I have really no idea what women see when they look at me and my daughter together and I have no idea why they find this alluring, but my wife says they do. As I pay more attention to this, I do notice that I seem to have a lot of conversations with women here than I ever had before. Maybe before I was creepy guy buying beer and snack cakes but now I am safe responsible guy buying dinner, I have no idea.

But there is one there with her kid and she smiles at me. I am polite and smile back. However, I’m sure we are thinking different things. While she may be thinking “how cute”, I’m thinking that she is blocking the steaks and I wish she would move. She makes a move toward my daughter which I find uncomfortable. I am a tad over protective and it bothers me when strangers want to pinch my daughter’s cheeks and pick her up. I will need a background check on you psycho before I can let you pick up my spud.

She asks me how old and I give the standard reply, thinking that this will be the end of it. I am very wrong. Ms. Hot Mom, it turns out, has a child that was born on the exact date of my daughter. As we are going through this I then discover that she went to the same college that I did and in fact lived in the same dorm. How interesting I think. All I really want to do is pick out my steak but the conversation takes a turn. I am asked if I get out much and do I belong to a Mommies Day out program. I have heard of these but they always scare me. I imagine a bunch of women sitting around telling all the secrets of their husbands bowel movements. I want no part of this.

No I say but my wife knows some people. I don’t think that Ms. Hot Mom heard the “wife” statement because she proceeds to tell me how she has a great one around here and that I should give it a shot. I score a number and a 2lbs of hamburger.

On to the checkout where the cashier wants to A: touch my baby, we have gone through this people and B: overcharge me for everything. This is when I don’t feel bad about the havoc that I have left through the store. Believe me, they are getting the better end of the deal when I pay 12 bucks for a case of coke.

At home, I think nothing of what has transpired and tell my wife about the interesting women I met at the store. I have never been very attuned when women are hitting on me as I don’t believe it because I wouldn’t hit on me. Then again, I am not gay, so I don’t know if I will ever get this. I am very happy with my family and love my wife dearly so I usually don’t even think this happens. My wife is funny, independent and puts out a lot, what more could I want? My wife on the other hand has a better perception of this than I do.

She explains that the supermarket is where a lot of women go to meet men, especially women with kids. It’s safe and has been mentioned in Dear Abby, so there you go. She says that the meet isle is a metaphor for hot daddy loving. I dispute this and say that this lady was being nice. She looks at me like I’m an ignorant 2 year old who thinks Santa is still real. She then asks if this ever happened without my daughter around. Um, no. Has a Hot Mom ever given me a number when she just met me before. Um, no. Has a Hot Mom ever infact attempted to talk to me without my daughter. Um, no. She walks away triumphant in the fact that realization has come to me. I was just hit on. You would think you would know, but I guess I don’t.

My wife then grabs her keys and says she is going back to the store because I forgot some things. All of a sudden, I am very suspicious. Is she going to the meat isle?