Tonight I went to Whole Foods for milk. Just milk. Nothing else.

Silly mommy.

So I go in, and first I have to exchange some tomatoes that were completely rotten less than a day after I bought them. And then I have to get new tomatoes, which reminds me we need cantaloupe because right now all Dane will eat are cinnamon raisin bagels, blueberries, processed cheese and cantaloupe (and COOKOO MAMA, COOKOO). And next to the cantaloupe is some tasty looking humus, which reminds me we need some sort of soft bread (other side of the store), and then from there I can see the hot bar and the bakery and I’m STARVING, and next thing I know I’m checking out with replacement tomatoes, three crab cakes, a cookie, a pint of cantaloupe, a loaf of oatmeal bread and, that’s right, attentive reader… no milk. So: back to dairy, get the milk, checkout, head to the car with milk precariously balanced on one arm and just as I’m at the car I stumble and BAM. MILK. EVERYWHERE. So on my third time through the Whole Foods checkout line the same very nice girl looks at me and says, “Hard night?”

And just as I’m about to complain, I remember:

Mommy, your finger’s in the picture.

And this:

COWABUNGA!

And let’s not forget this:

What? At least I didn’t get a tattoo.

And I realize I have much better problems than a little spilled milk.

Thank you Whole Foods, for perspective. And also, you know, crab cakes. And cookies.

Smooch -s