It had been over a month since Jon left the house. He goes through stretches where he just doesn’t want to go anywhere even though I offer to take him out three to four days each week.
Sunday I came home from church to find him dressed in clean clothes with shoes on. That’s the signal for “I want outa’ here,” so I dropped my plans for a relaxing afternoon and off we went.
Jon needed a haircut and since the barbershop where I usually take him is closed Sundays we headed to the salon I frequent in a nearby plaza, which also houses our neighborhood grocery store, a nail salon, a dollar store, a Chinese takeout and a Subway. After his haircut, Jon decided to walk over to the grocery.
My son doesn’t ask for much. He doesn’t care about the latest tech gadget, smart phone, brand name clothes, gas money or car payments. He doesn’t pay rent or a mortgage or need expensive guy toys – boats, jet skis, motorcycles or classic cars – so when he occasionally decides to wander in a store for some shopping I really don’t mind dropping a few bucks on him.
We slowly wandered the aisles for almost two hours making four passes from front to back and end to end until my feet and ankles started screaming, “Enough already!” He wanted to make sure he didn’t miss anything. Several times, I had to resist the urge to take things out of the cart and put them back when he wasn’t looking.
His impromptu grocery list looked something like this:
Package of cheese hot dogs
Hoagie rolls
Bag of York peppermint patties
Large Hersey bar
An individual piece of white cake from the bakery
Jar of Tostitos white cheese dip
Bag of cheese and sour cream potato chips
Bag of Frito’s
Package of AAA batteries
Package of turkey pepperoni
Package of beef jerky
Container of shaved Parmesan cheese
Large bottle of yellow Gatorade
And four peaches
Other than the peaches and the Parmesan, I cringed as I paid for his pile of junk food and the batteries we didn’t need because we had a drawer full of them at home already.
After his groceries were loaded in the car, he headed for the Chinese takeout. And we took it out, right next door to Subway where I ordered a salad. Jon took my drink and chips to accompany his fried rice and chicken chow mien. We stayed there until they kicked us out when the place closed at ten.
I’ve come to the conclusion in matters of food choices Jon is no different than most Americans, so God’s gotta’ keep me upright and breathing for a very long time. My son needs me to make him a salad now and then and healthy meals that actually provide him with some much needed nutrients.
Just hoping no one lets him do his own grocery shopping all the time, after I leave this planet. If they do he’ll be joining me much sooner than expected!