I have a thing about driving shopping carts. I rarely let my kids do it, because when they were younger, almost without exception they would "accidentally" run into the back of me with the cart. Come to think of it, the number of times it happened? Maybe it was more than accidental. I mean, how many times can you run into someone's heels, apologize profusely and sincerely, and then do it all over again, before the person catches on? Apparently more than a few.
Anyway - I finally got to the point where if one of my children was/is driving the shopping cart (and come to think of it, why are they always behind me?), I will subconsciously hold my arm out behind me as I walk through the store, so as to protect my heels and my behind from being accosted. I think of it as sort of a reverse "talk to the hand".
They still feign innocence, too.
"Jeesh, mom! WHY are you walking like that? It's not like I'm going to hit you. Again. "
Uh-huh. I fell for that one a few times, too.
SO yesterday I was in Costco, driving my own shopping cart (thankyouverymuch), trying to finish up my Thanksgiving shopping before it got too crowded. I'm glad I went before it got too crowded, because I was imagining what it would have been like if it had been actually crowded,and I don't think you would have been able to fit any more carts into the store. So that was good.
About halfway through my trip, I had this overwhelming urge to walk with my hand out behind me. I think it was intuition or something, because you have to know that between all the elderly people who were in there, and all the kids who were running around (and what were kids doing there at 1pm I ask?) it just felt - you know- a little tight. And also like people were paying way more attention to getting a sample of the 3 cheese ravioli than to the direction of their shopping carts.
Turns out the hand thing wouldn't have helped, because the 20ish year old extremely muscular guy who DID scrape the skin off my heel with his cart had one of those flatbed things which I obviously could not have defended with the old arm-sticking-out-behind-the-back move.
He apologized profusely, saying he had no idea the cart was that heavy and just couldn't get it slowed down in time.
I looked from his sincere face, to the shirt he was wearing that proudly proclaimed "Personal Trainer", to his mom (I'm pretty sure it was his mom) who was with him, and we all busted out laughing.
I have now been officially inaugurated into the holiday shopping season. And I have the ankles to prove it.