By Amy D Lerner of Marching to the Beat of a Different Drummer

It was only a few short weeks ago that my youngest discovered the car cart at the grocery store. You know, the cart that’s the length of a semi-truck because it has a Little Tikes car basically glued to the front of it? The one that doesn’t steer because its weight is shifted to the front and one of the cart wheels is always misaligned? The one that makes me feel like Sisyphus, pushing this hulk of a grocery cart through the aisles in an uphill battle to check out before it all goes to pot? Yeah, that’s the cart we need to use now if I want to make it the whole way through the grocery store with her.

But it’s a joy compared to the Shopper in Training cart. This is a kid-sized shopping cart with a tall pole and sign declaring “shopper in training” attached at the top, presumably so that average height shoppers will notice the little one quietly pushing her cart down the aisle. Who are they kidding? First of all, she’s announcing her presence by loudly explaining every move: “I’m doing the shopping, not you!” Second, that “shopper in training” sign, hey, that’s something new not found on mama’s cart! It turns out that it’s much harder to steer when you’re fascinated with a sign three feet above your head. I had no idea what a complex set of skills pushing a shopping cart requires.

Also, the Shopper in Training cart is too small to put anything but a pack of gum in, so it requires a parent with at least three arms—two to push your own cart and one to help corral the shopper in training, who is oblivious to other shoppers, displays, employees stocking shelves, and basically anything but that damn sign waving above the mini cart.

It makes me look forward to the car cart next time.

Yes, we’ve become cart snobs. If you’re anything like me, no matter which kind of cart it is, you have to swoop in on it with antibacterial wipes and do a lightning-fast wipe down before your kid licks the grubby handlebars. But those regular carts neatly lined up at the front of the store are no longer good enough for us. We have to prowl the back alleys and side entrances where other desperate parents of toddlers left the carts with bells and whistles. (Not actual bells and whistles, please, if you are a designer of shopping carts, NOT ACTUAL BELLS AND WHISTLES.)

I’m adding shopping carts to the list of things that I had no idea I’d be stressing over when I was an elementary school girl desperately trying to fill my sticker book with the coolest rainbows and scratch and sniff stickers the 80s had to offer.

Once when we were on vacation in Florida we experienced the holy of holies, a kid-friendly shopping cart that was functional and easy to push. It had the car part turned around and miniaturized so that your kid was facing you as you pushed the cart through the store, not hanging out the front by their toes where you can’t see them past your cart full of toilet paper and Cheerios. No, this wise shopping cart engineer put the fun kid segment up at parent eye level, and left enough room for a regular-sized cargo hold. I think I’m moving there, not for the schools, not for the weather, not for the property tax rate, but for the fine quality of the kid-friendly shopping carts.

***********

About the Author

Amy D. Lerner is a freelance editor, writer and wife and mother of two girls. She’s written for Forward, Kveller, BlogHer and Parent.co and specializes in book-length nonfiction editing. She lives in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, and blogs along with the rest of her family at https://marchingtothebeat.wordpress.com