Having discovered how much the kids actually like going to the store, I’ve decided it’s easier to just take one kid with me and go after dinner. This eliminates a night of grouchy mom snapping at everyone because I know after the kids are in bed and I want to crash, I’ll have to drag myself out of the house, and go grocery shopping by myself, which is the ultimate evil. 

So Grant was the lucky duck this time, and Publix (pronounced pub-lix, for you Yankees) was our place of choice. They have monsterous carts and I had cupouns. The shopping trip was uneventful. Things didn’t get intersting till bedtime. It was daddy’s night, so I wittled away the time on facebook until I was summoned to pray, since apparently I’m the only one that can pray…according to Grant.  

In an effort to squish our inborn selfishness we pray for other people every night. The usual number is three. The three he picks are fairly consistant: papa, nana, and Jena, in that order. Occasionally others are thrown in, depends on who he saw that day. If more are allowed that night daddy is usually the fourth. Mommy, occassionally, will bottom out the list if I allow him to go on endlessly…which I quite frequently do, it’s hard to be a nazi about the rules when your kid is asking to pray for more people…

So I go in to start the normal drill; I ask him who wants to pray for. Top of the list is……PUBLIX. That somehow made the fact that I barely make the list at all not so bad.

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