Tag: childrens story

I apologize for not posting in some time. The awful upper respiratory infection that was going around this year finally caught me.

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He was just a little boy, but even at three years old  he hated his size.  Most of the time it didn’t bother him that he was taller than the other children. What he hated most was going into the grocery store with his mother and having to ride in the cart. If Mom was in a hurry putting him in the seat, sometimes he would bump his knees on the wire  and that really hurt. When Mom measured him on the picture of the giraffe that hung on the closet door and was made to keep up with children’s height, she would smile and say how wonderful it was that he would be tall like his dad and grandpa. Of course it wasn’t her that was too tall to fit in that basket on wheels, but what could a boy do? Would he stop growing if she didn’t measure him on the giraffe anymore? He would have to think about that.

They were in the car when mom explained that they had to stop at the grocery store.  Oh no, he thought. How could he talk her out of putting him in the basket? He could walk beside her, he would be good. After all, he was three years old now.

His mother pulled into the market parking lot and parked, then got out and went to the passenger side to help him out.

“We must be quick, I need to get home so we can start dinner,” she explained as she took his hand and they walked toward the store.

Now was the time; how did he ask so she would agree? She was walking quickly and he had to almost run to keep up. Okay, he was going to try.

“Mom, would you let me walk beside the basket? I would be good, I promise,” he said, a hopeful expression on his face.

” Honey, I’m in a hurry, we should have been home by now.  Please be good and don’t make a fuss,” she replied.

“Please, my legs don’t fit in that basket. I’ll stay right beside you, I promise,” he pleaded.

“Okay, but you can’t wonder off. You have to stay right beside me, I don’t have time to hunt for you if we get separated,” she said.

They went up one aisle to get two cans of tomatoes.  In another section they got a bag of onions.  Mom looked down at him and smiled before they went back to where the meat was kept for a large package of ground beef.

The next thing he knew, a lady was coming toward him while pushing a basket and she was wobbling all over the place.  If he stayed beside Mom, the lady was going to run over him, but he had promised. What was he supposed to do? He decided that the only thing he could do was move over behind Mom until the lady went by.  He was walking behind his mother and watching her while waiting for the lady to pass when his mother suddenly stopped the cart. Soon, she was calling his name.  Was she angry? Would she torture him by putting him back in the basket? She called his name again, a little louder this time.

As she was turning toward him,  he answered her. “I am right behind you, baby!” he said, quoting a song he had heard in the car earlier.

At first he couldn’t tell. Was she angry? Would she put him back in the cart?  Then he saw it, the little tilt at the corner of her mouth. She was trying to keep from laughing.

“There you are, let’s get some bread sticks and then we can go home. I thought we would have spaghetti and meatballs. That is your and Daddy’s favorite dinner.”

Some years later, when he was in the sixth grade, he has asked his mom to quit measuring him. He was even taller, well  over six foot, and tired of being tall. He is sorry to report that it didn’t work.