Grocery math

I'm annoyed. I just wrote the better part of a post and then blogspot ate the post. Grrr. Then I wrote it again and I couldn't get the pictures to work.

My story, and I'm sure it was brilliantly written unlike the version here, was about Ben going to the grocery store. Yesterday, Ben had a hankering for Kettle Chips. His craving was such that he was willing to make a grocery store run and pick up the chips AND the other things we needed. You know, food. Fruits, veggies, meats, etc. I'd just gotten a coupon for $10 off a $100 purchase at the grocery store so I gave it to him on his way out the door and he said "I won't be spending that much!"

Famous last words. He came back with $225 in groceries and other miscellaneous things. Sweat pants? Socks? He told me "I wanted to be sure I spent $100." He appears to be missing that internal grocery calculator that keeps a somewhat accurate running total. It must be bundled with the ability to look at unit costs and buy the cheapest, shop sales, know pretty much what's in the pantry at all times, and remember to put out the recycling. My head is full of useful but tedious minutia at all times.

While I was in Chicago, Ben tried to teach Sam right from left. I joked that he was right 50% of the time but now it seems that I'm wrong. When it comes to his feet, he's right about 75% of the time although he still struggles with his hands and likely is still at 50%.

Sam's also been protesting my requirement that he wear his helmet when he rides his scooter so I've been telling him he looks very handsome in his helmet. Well, that and that all the cool kids wear them. So if you see him in his helmet, give him some positive reinforcement.

He's been talking up a storm lately. Yesterday he told me "I love my corduroys." That refers to his pants of course. He's also been fascinated with Kirby lately. "Kirby doesn't have hands!" and "Kirby doesn't have feet!" but "Kirby has paws!" Yes, all with an exclamation point.

Today he was insisting that he needed a birthday and there was nothing we could do to convince him that it wasn't his birthday so we sent him to bed. Ok, that's not really the reason but his whiny crying for the hour before bedtime was a tip off that perhaps he needed an earlier bedtime than I'd planned.

Tonight I snuck in my first bit of watching the Olympics and am I the only one that can't tell one jump from another in figure skating? I swear the only difference is that they go into some of them forward and others backward. Ben called one of the jumps a "double klutz" after a fall.