Yesterday, my beautiful, delightful little 22 month old twins turned into the spawn of Satan himself… in the supermarket! I have reached the point, where I cannot handle supermarkets with toddler twins. From now on… I shop solo!
It started with me having to ask the security guard to find me a trolley, because nobody else was anywhere to be seen and the twin trolleys had been buried behind about 50 other trolleys… which were padlocked together! And obviously they were entirely the other side of the car park, to the parent spaces. To top it off, we’d managed to somehow come out with only three shoes between the twins. So after twenty minutes of standing around in the car park, we finally found a suitable trolley.
Commence the shopping… or should I say… the hair pulling and the biting? I smile at the look of horror on other shoppers faces, when they hear me say, “don’t bite your sister, darling, it’s not kind”. Then they obviously turn to look at the twins, who flash the sweetest of smiles. This usually precedes someone saying “oh you’ve got your hands full” or “are they twins?” or 100 other unoriginal lines us twin parents have heard a million times before.
By the time we reach aisle three, the twins are able to reach some of the things in the trolley. This gives them three choices…
1) Open the packaging
2) Eat the item (packaging too)
3) Choose an unsuspecting victim and hurl the item at them
If they are quick enough, they manage to do all three.
Whilst someone is asking me a mundane question on motherhood and whether or not my twins are identical, I hear the sound of some type of grain hitting the floor, after falling from a height… and there goes my bag of rice!
I hear someone nearby tutting at me.
Squealing is next. A squealing competition actually. The twins decide to see who can squeal the loudest and who has the highest pitch. When then reach a frequency that only dogs should hear, I feel air passing my eardrum and I try to quieten them with kisses, cuddles, tickling, or anything that will stop the squealing.
Hearing successfully damaged, Fluffy moves on to escapism, by demonstrating how to get out of the trolley seat. Again. And again. And again. In fact… for the rest of the way around the store! By this point my patience is wearing thin and we are only halfway around the shop. I’ve tried giving them snacks and drinks, but they only lasted about thirty seconds.
By the time we get to the last few aisles, the twins are throwing things out the trolley, quicker than I can pick them up. Denting packets, ripping packets and making other shoppers either laugh, or run for their lives.
I’ve started panic buying… hurling random things into the trolley at speed, with no regard for budget or nutritional values. The aim is to get things into the trolley, quicker than the twins can throw them out. I’m fighting a losing battle… it’s two against one.
Just before we reach the tills, the crying starts from Fluffy, although luckily short-lived. I don’t know why they seem tired, it’s still an hour until nap time. The throwing objects continues at the checkout – only this time they are taking things out of the bags I’ve packed ready to go in the car.
I can’t wait to get home, but the lady at the till is telling me how adorable my children are.
I reply that they are “cute but evil”.
We head for the car and the trolley decides to get a mind of its own and career off in the opposite direction to the zebra crossing. I have to throw my entire body weight at it, to keep it on track.
I bundle the children into their car seats and load the shopping into the boot. I look back at the twins as I get into the car and the little demons… have turned into sleeping angels with cute little butter-wouldn’t-melt faces.
I am thoroughly exhausted, but my god, I love those children. All motivation has left me, but they are just so adorable.
I don’t know whether to laugh or cry… because as soon as I get home… I have to wake them up, to get them into the house!!!