close call

This morning at the grocery store, the little man spotted the grocery cart disguised as toylike truck that I've been trying to avoid since he was old enough to sit up. When he spotted the steering wheel his eyes popped out of his head and he exclaimed, "Has whoa whoa...CUCAMUNGA!" Luckily, we had already done our shopping. And since it was raining, the truck-cart was all wet in the parking lot.

It's not that I'm so much a fun-killer that I refuse to let my boy discover the joy of cruising through the grocery store behind the wheel of a large automobile. I just fear the day we get there, after he's seen gay par-eeh, and it's gone. Undoubtedly, the chaos will ensue (cue psycho music). And me no like the chaos.

But something tells me we're not going to be able to avoid this one for much longer.