A/N: Updating 3 months later something I was supposed to update everyday for a month, this is absolutely my style :D In my defense, this fall semester has been rough. But it's in the past now, so I'm having more time to write, and I'm going to try and finish this drabble challenge of mine before the end of the hiatus (I still have 20 prompts). Keep a lookout for my new oneshot coming soon as well :D

Thank you all so much for your support, I am grateful for having such wonderful readers :')

GROCERY SHOPPING

"I wanna get down!"

Unsurprisingly, Etta was already running out of patience, only seven minutes after they'd entered the grocery store.

Olivia should have known this docile behavior wouldn't last, her three year old holding the grocery list and nodding approvingly to every item her mother picked up from the shelves and presented to her. Now, she was antsy to get out, fueled by her never ending source of energy.

At first, Olivia ignored her pleas –or rather grumpy commands- to be taken out of her seat, keeping her focus on finding everything that was on the list –that she had picked up from the floor after Etta had thrown it down in an act of defiance. It only took four additional minutes of this, pushing her cart through the aisles while her child squirmed and whined as if in agony, demanding more and more loudly to be let out and trying to jump off on her own despite the fact that she was tightly buckled in, before Olivia finally gave in.

Usually, she tried her best not to cave in –that was more of Peter's specialty and Etta knew it, but usually, going grocery shopping with their overactive three year old wasn't assigned to Olivia either, and she highly suspected that her father rarely made her sit in the cart.

In all honesty, she was in no mood to spend the next thirty minutes hearing her get more and more frustrated, which would end up with her probably screaming and crying dramatically, while fellow mothers all around the store gave her looks that would be either sickeningly understanding or plainly judgmental.

Which was why she let her child get down, feeling accordingly incompetent for doing so, but after all, she was only human.

"Stay close to the cart, baby," she instructed her, maybe a bit distractedly, because wherever they went, Etta usually always stayed by her or Peter's side.

Her eyes quickly moved back to the row of pasta, trying to decide if they needed spaghetti, or the butterfly-shaped ones that usually had a lot of success with their daughter.

When she looked away from the boxes to ask her what she would rather have her father cook for them, Etta wasn't in the aisle anymore.

One moment of inattention, and Etta was gone.

This second of pure fright that gripped her as she realized that her child wasn't by her side anymore also turned into an odd instant of clarity for Olivia.

The small stir of inadequacy she had felt by simply letting her down was morphing into crushing certainty, a feeling she often felt on and off, ever since her daughter's birth, every time she couldn't soothe her cries, or felt overwhelmed by motherhood for so many reasons.

Because she knew, deep inside, that she didn't deserve her, didn't deserve this incredible little girl, didn't deserve to be a mother; she just wasn't programmed that way. And this, her baby girl being suddenly gone, it was her punishment for even trying.

The feeling was intense and overpowering, looming, but it was also fleeting. With her next intake of breath, she snapped out of it, immediately abandoning her cart.

"Etta?" she called out loudly, swiftly turning a corner, and realizing right away that she had entered the 'candy aisle'; new shivers broke under her skin as relief poured through her.

Etta stood in the middle of the aisle, pointing up at one of the shelves.

"Can we get candy for gwampa, mama?"

Her daughter was obviously completely oblivious to the fright she had just given her, and Olivia fought the urge to drop to her knees and squeeze her against her chest. Etta did give her a slightly quizzical look, though, and she looked so much like Peter when she did that.

Olivia forced herself to smile, pushing away what remained of her fears, feeling somewhat silly now for having these thoughts in the first place.

After reminding her daughter of how important it was for her to never leave her or her daddy's sight when they were out of the house, Olivia agreed to get a bag of candies for Walter –not red vines but purple ones, Etta having long ago converted her grandfather to her 'favowite colow'. Next, they went and got bread to make sandwiches, the odd warning Olivia had felt already almost forgotten.

Tomorrow, they were going to the park.