Love Bug and I were wandering through the market. We stopped to get some of our favourite organic humus and she looked up at me and asked if she could have some for the raw baby corn she was gnawing on.

Sure, if that will get us through the market without another meltdown {we’d already had a stellar one in the Asian greens section}. As I was taking the lid off the humus and dipping the raw baby corn in it for her, a man stopped to say how refreshing it was to see a child eating healthy snacks rather than whingeing for sweets.

Because I am an oversharer {no, really?} I told this stranger the story of being at a party with Love Bug when she had one mouthful of a cake then put it down and asked if I’d brought blueberries with me. I am entirely sure he needed to know that about us.

Fast forward five minutes. We’re standing in front of the yoghurt section, I’m concentrating on trying to find the delicious yoghurt they make specific to this market in a hurry so we could get out of there and get home. Preferably before we have any more issues. The man who already knows more about us than a stranger in the market needs to also stopped at the yoghurt fridge. Love Bug looked up at him, kind of like this.

Then do you want to know what she did? In a voice that was not exactly quiet, she yelled.

Daddy!

No, I am not exaggerating. That was not embarrassing … much. Oh dear dog, get me out of this place. Stat. But then what did she do? She took off. As in ran. Fast. Away from me. Ignoring my calling her, and running after her. When did she get so fast?

By the time I’d done a total lap around the store and was at the checkout trying to maintain my Little Monster who {was now entirely passed it}, who should appear beside us?

You guessed it: daddy. They keep you fit, don’t they? he offers.

Is it wine o’clock yet. Oh, that’s right I’m still cleansing.