Michelle turned around to see her husband standing on the cart propelling himself forward. He stepped down, turned it around and did it again, careful not to hit any of the shelves.
"You know," he announced, "This is oddly exciting!" Michelle giggled.
"Peaches or pears?" she asked, shaking her head at the amusement her husband received from this simple task.
"Umm, peaches!" he responded, pushing himself across the floor yet again. Michelle picked out four ripe peaces and carefully placed them in a plastic bag before twisting the top and moving on to the tangerines and oranges.
"Oranges, or tangerines?" she asked. He was now pushing himself as slow a possible and seeing how far he could go.
"Nectarines. That way I don't have to choose." he replied, slightly disappointed when the trolley stopped. He turned it around and tried again.
"Nectarines it is." she mumbled to herself. She placed the two bags in the moving cart and looked up at Tony, smirking. "I can't take you anywhere." Tony gave her a boyish grin before heading off towards the vegetables, now using the cart as a scooter. Michelle sighed, a huge smile still on her face. Her husband was usually so serious, especially at work, so the silliness was a rare treat.
They made their way through the vegetables and canned goods quickly, but once they reached produce things came to a stand still.
"Just pick one!" she cried, "Chicken is chicken."
"That's why I do all the cooking." Tony replied, finally picking out a six pound chicken and placing it delicately in the cart. "Perfect."
"I still don't see the difference," Michelle complained, pushing the cart over to the milk. She had removed Tony's cart pushing privileges at aisle seven, after he almost knocked her over due to a miscalculation. He claimed it was an accident, but she explained that his license had been revoked until an insurance claim could be filed. He had smiled and given her a kiss, to which she retorted, 'Sir, I don't respond well to bribery. I'm gonna have to write you up.'
"Skim, or 1 ½ ?" she asked.
"Whole." he stated plainly.
"Please, that's like drinking grease out of a pan." she argued, gagging at the thought of it.
"Fine, but not skim, it's like drinking watered down soy." At this he picked up a gallon of 1 ½ and placed it in the cart next to the spaghetti and tomato paste. Michelle hated tomato paste or at least the thought of it. 'Do we have to get paste?' she asked, turning her nose up immediately. 'I always use paste!' he had argued. She finally gave in, so he let her win the milk debate.
"Oh, I need some shampoo!" she remembered, turning down aisle 15 with Tony in hot pursuit.
"Get the stuff that smells sexy, not that curl treatment crap." he demanded, sticking his tongue out and scrunching up his face.
"My hair's easier to comb with the treatment stuff!" she argued. She turned around to see her husband pouting as if his mommy had just told him he couldn't have a lollypop. "Fine! I'll get the treatment shampoo and the sexy conditioner, okay?" she compromised.
"Which goes in last?" he questioned, making sure he was getting a fair deal.
"The conditioner." she responded.
"Okay! I need to grab some shaving cream." he informed her, turning around and immediately finding the bottle he wanted. "That's the difference between you and me; I can come down an aisle and know exactly what I want. You have to read all the labels, compare the prices, see which one will make you frizz or tangle, and eventually you end up settling on the wrong one. I pick up the same thing every time."
"Sounds like our wedding day." she replied quickly.
"That was cold, but I'll give it to you."
"I get the same pads every time." she snapped lightly, looking through the feminine care section. Tony joined her and began carefully examining the items on the shelf.
"Why do these things need wings?" he asked curiously, and she laughed.
"So they don't fly away." she responded, picking up her overnights and dropping them in the cart.
"Isn't the purpose of wings to make things fly? And what's the difference between a tampon and a pad. That was never clearly explained to me." he asked, picking up a box and reading the back.
"A pad you wear on your underwear, a tampon you stick up your "
"Okay!" he cut her off. "I get it!"
Micelle chuckled. "Well, you asked!" They left no man's land and approached the 'family planning' section. It seemed almost ominous, and they both grew quiet.
"Now here's something we can never agree on." he complained.
"Yeah. Well, we know we need a lubricate one, so that rules these out."
"But no spermicidal ones, so that rules out those."
"That one was weird."
"Those are too small."
"So are those."
They continued this discussion for about ten minutes before coming to a decision. "Okay," Michelle began. "Let's try the 'Very sensitive.'"
"It's always o weird talking about this with you." Tony explained as they walked to the checkout.
"Why?" she asked, pulling a few groceries out and placing them on the conveyor belt.
"Because, that's usually something a guy does alone. Now I do it with my wife." he stated, throwing the milk and chicken onto the counter.
"Well, I have to deal with it too!" They finished checking out and pushed the cart out of the store.
"There is another alternative though…" he suggested.
"Oh, and what's that?" she asked.
"Commando. Hey, you always said it'd be great to have a little Almeida running around." Michelle smiled and kissed him on the cheek.
"We'll talk."