Thursday, 26 June 2008

Going shopping

Sally has been itching for her independence lately (luckily involving things like helping with the chores or changing Charlie's nappy) and she's striving all the time for more. But I'm still terrified, each Tuesday, when she walks herself - alone - to her piano teacher's house. (I've only just stopped spying on her while she does it and only then due to the funny looks that I was getting. 'Oh it's alright, she's my daughter' I explained one afternoon, while watching from behind a hedge. 'That's what they all say' grumbled the old lady as she walked past, tutting. I then spent the remainder of the evening fearing imminent arrest!) So, laden with a bike, her school bag, my school bag, a lap-top and a shopping list from Sarah, I was rather pleased when she announced the other day that I could sit outside and wait for her while she went in and did the shopping. There's a bench outside the supermarket; she's a sensible young girl; she knows the layout of the shop. But as I waited, and I waited, and I waited, I tried hard to stem the rising tide of panic. What could she be doing in there? The list was only half-a-dozen items long? I went up to the window, straining past the posters advertising special offers, but I couldn't see her. Eventually, and after an eternity, I caught sight of her queuing at the till. I waved; she smiled. Evidently, everything was alright. 'Why were you so long?' I asked as nonchalantly as I could when she appeared with the shopping bags. 'Well I was working out that if you bought six froobes of yoghurt for £1, then you'd be better off to buy two packs because you'd then save 50p.' I didn't know your maths was that bad, Sal, I thought. But there was more. 'And if you bought six cartons then you got the same amount of yoghurt but for only £1.25. I've saved you seventy-five pee, daddy' Sally beamed, holding up the coins. I told her she could keep the change. It seemed a small price, really.
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