So the other day, Spencer and I were in the midst of a super busy day of many errands. We had been all over, and our last stop was the commissary. I am not a huge fan of grocery shopping in general, but Spencer is an awesome helper and shopping companion.
We were powering through the list. And we had already had to backtrack because I forgot a couple of things here and there. Not my most efficient shopping trip. And Spencer was alternating between walking, riding in the front of the cart, riding on the back of the cart, and his most favorite of all spots, sort of resting on the place where you put your hands to push the cart with his arms tightly around my neck. This is a new favorite shopping spot. I love it because I am steal his sugar almost constantly while we shop. And he giggles and puts his head on my shoulder, and I relish every second because before I know it, he is going to be too cool to snuggle with his Mom while we shop.
So we are on Aisle 12. It is pasta and soup and canned chicken and tuna and chef boyardee and tomato sauce and spaghetti sauce. I was nuzzling my giggling boy. I grabbed a jar of Ragu Spaghetti Sauce and absent-mindedly placed it behind my sweet boy in the cart. I knew that I put it in the child seat portion. It seemed like a good idea at the time. But when I put it in, the weight of the jar shifted the other items that I had placed in the child seat area. And worst of all, I was too busy giggling with my son to notice that chain of events that the spaghetti sauce placement had started. I heard a bottle of Gatorade hit the floor. I grabbed Spencer to pick him up out of the way so that I could see what happened. And just as we looked, the 26 ounce glass jar of Ragu Traditional Style Sauce hit the floor and proceeded to go everywhere. I was slightly embarrassed (only slightly because when you are as klutzy as I am, you tend to get immune to embarrassing yourself). Yep, we are those people.
Spencer immediately told me not to worry. He also told me that "accidents happen, Momma." Such a sweetheart. And as we left the cart to try and locate someone who could make the dreaded "Wet Clean-Up" announcement, I looked down. I noticed that as the jar busted, it spilled ALL OVER my feet. One of my shoes was completely covered. The bottom of my pants legs had sauce on them. It was attractive. AND I left a trail everywhere I walked. Nice. Just my way of spreading the joy, you know? I wiped them off as best I could with the used tissue I found in my purse. And once we alerted the appropriate authorities, Spencer and I just sort of stood there, guarding my mess, waiting for the dude with the mop to arrive.
The funniest part was that after several people passed and smiled at us and made little comments, I realized that they all thought SPENCER had done it! I got so tickled. Mainly because if it had been Spencer, he would have curled up in a ball in the corner. He cannot stand to make a boo-boo like that! He once caused a baby food jar to break at the commissary and he nearly went off the deep end.
Once we got home, I thought to take a picture of my feet before I changed shoes and pants.
Max is licking the shoes every time he goes by.
I think they'll be all clean any minute now.
Oh and David came home and saw them by the door and very cautiously asked, "Uh, what happened to your shoes?"
So I told him:
Klutzy wife + Snuggly Son = Clean Up on Aisle 12