On a somewhat lighter note--it's all about the Pizza...

As a newly christened stay-at-home dad, there are several...shall we say...baptisms ahead for me and my boys. There's food preparation, and rule-making / enforcing. There's diaper changing. There's diaper rash. Wash, folding, cleaning, craigslisting (ok, that probably doesn't belong here), utilizing teaching moments, picture-taking, and inevitably (screeching, smoking, crying halt) the food runs out. And therein lies the unspoken and highly-feared challenge.

...

One popular "warehouse-retailer," which shall remain nameless (name starts with "C" and rhymes with "ostco") has wisely placed a food vendor by the exit channels of its stores, as well as many strategically placed food-sampler kiosks throughout the store. The bait is in place, the trap is set.

...

It is time. Having faced the facts about my mortality, and girded my loins for battle, the boys and I headed out to forage, hunt, and bring home the trophies of our pursuits.

We arrived early. The wind was ferocious and had the keenest edge. Here is where the true veterans are shown, and the weaklings begin their rapid descent. Do the boys have appropriate attire? NO-THEY'RE MEN. But alas, they are but wee small men.

Fortunately it is a short but God-forsaken walk to giant overhead doors. There is a brief, but heated discussion about cart preferences. Cooler heads (bigger heads) prevail, and having established some cart-protocols, we enter the store for our pat-downs, security-clearance badges hanging from our mouths, and hands raised non-confrontationally over our heads. As we enter this grand palace, this shining mecca, this, this, hu-MONGOUS bountiful place, and the arc-sodium lights dazzle our eyes, we wander, dazed for the first several steps. The large-screen TV's, glass display cases, and large men's winter coats, sleeping bags, camping chairs, and ice-chests with espresso-makers right in the lids!

Once our eyes were adjusted we began our search. List in hand, we wandered past the 8lb jugs of mixed nuts, inflatable amusement parks (I'm serious as a heart-attack), and worked our way through the store. My youngest son, #2, well, he eats. I'll put it into perspective. I'm 32, weigh around 165lbs, and we'll eat the same plate of food. And he'll beat me. His older brother- his almost 2 years older brother-only weighs about 5lbs more than he does. So all those food kiosks-they speak to him mightily.

Of course I feel weird feeding my kids with the kiosks. I mean I'm the one buying stuff, and the kiosks are supposed to make me buy stuff, right? so just giving the food straight to the kid without even trying it is kind of taking advantage of the kiosks-right? So I will take a nibble of the garlic-chicken weight watchers pizza, available in the freezer section for...and then pass it right over to the kids. Of course, Jack is totally offended at the meager portions, and as soon as I begin to walk away from the kiosk begins to act as if this is the first time he's had food in a week. So, anyways, back to foraging...

...

Have you ever tried to find a package of dry-yeast at a place like that? Well, we are milling through the store, as the clock creeps ever closer to lunch-time (read: that's when #2 goes from pumpkin pie to rotten pumpkin sitting on the steps right before Christmas-in Arizona). Now it seems like every ten steps it's "We've got Crystal Light with extra sugar mixed in" and "Low-fat yogurt with fresh frozen blueberries," and "we've got these microwave burritos and hot-sauce that will fry the hair right off your hobbity little feet, available in large, extra-large, supercalifragalistic-expe-FREAKIN-al-i-docious." And everytime, #2 reaches out with both hands, and the perennial teardrop perched so precariously on his lower left eyelash. And then, not to be outdone or left out of the discussion, #1 says, again, "Papa? are we gonna eat lunch about the store, papa?" And I throw that bait out into the deep, deep waters again..."We will, but only if you are a well-behaved helper..." knowing full well that if I don't buy him a slice of pizza when this is done, all of hell's great fury will bring itself to bear in my grocery cart.

And so...having checked off all the items on my list we head for the checkout aisles...