Yesterday evening (some would say last night but night means
different things to people and it was six-thirty), I wandered into Whole Foods
in search of a few things, including cereal, a couple of boxes of pasta and
some other weird things, like soy mozzarella cheese, the only real mozzarella
cheese Luke and Leo will eat because it’s organic offered in thick but a little
pricey, slices, Fage yogurt (not weird), lunch meat for the kids.
Finished with my one basket shop, I came upon a family new
to New York form the UK who I met at a birthday party. One of their two children is a girl classmate
in Leo’s class. She was perched on her
father’s shoulders and having a great time.
We talked for a while, about snow and passing a New York State Driver’s
License test (hooray), the snow, and the rabid consumption of food before a
storm – no green leafy or spuddy (broccoli?) vegetables or bananas in-house at
Sunday’s end. I actually mentioned
bananas, not even needing them because no one in my house likes them much (there’s
one, actually, who has an adverse reaction to them – not like anaphylactic
shock but, like, gag) and the woman passing said, “No bananas.” I felt like I was in a gas line during the
Seventies or in a similar condition to what my younger brother says about his
experience at Trader Joe’s in Brooklyn.
That said, me and the family kept talking right in front of
the cereal endcap when a small bunch of bananas was lowered from
shoulder-perched-girls little hand and held in front of our faces. There was a bunch hiding behind the top row
of cereal.
ME: “I don’t even
need them but I’ll take them. Maybe I
should scalp them outside.”
That was the other story for the morning. Here here if anyone needs them… VERY marked
up. And fathers, always prop your
daughters high enough that they can see everything.
