I'm not a huge fan of the grocery shopping trip. I loathe having to deal with crowds and other bargain shoppers who feel the need to be chatty or get all up in my grill when I'm checking out the rump roast. When I'm there, I just want to get the job done - as fast and efficiently as possible.

Coming from a small town and being related to half of the people I see, a simple shopping trip can take twice as long as I'd normally like. Because of this, I decided to change things up and go at a time I might not normally go which equated 10AM on a Wednesday morning. I figured my only shopping competition would be some silver-haired foxes and the occasional momma just like me - frazzled and wishing she were single.

After I dropped the big kids off at school and returned home to launder both myself and Gunny, we then set out to tackle Safeway. I must admit that I like Safeway. I know people have issues with their personal information and the whole Club Card thing but I have no problem with it. I'm a lazy shopper and prefer not to have to cut coupons. If my little red card will save me money, I could care less if they keep track of how many 12 packs of Budweiser beer I buy, or how I have an infatuation with the $2.99 Safeway cookies. Don't judge me!

Anyhoo - back to the trip at hand. Gunny and I arrived at Safeway that morning and unfortunately for me, those dang carts with the fake car attached to the cart, were sitting right at the front door. These things are full of germs, hard to steer, and they make you look STUPID while you're pushing them. And of course, Gunny loves them. After giving the door and steering wheel a quick spray of my anti-swine flu antibacterial spray, I allowed Gunny to get in and start driving. I knew I was guaranteed at least five minutes of shopping time as this was about how long it took him to get tired of riding.

The shopping trip was going great ten minutes into it. We had sang the "Bob the Builder" theme song about 45 times and had gotten our free cookie from the bakery. On a side note, did you know that Bob's cat's name is Pilchard? What the heck kinda name is that? Gunny now calls Piper and Gracie, "Pilchawd!" and it just sounds wrong.

We had managed to get half way through the store when Gunny began to rear his ugly toddler head. It first began with some excited shrieks and screams in the cereal aisle. I was able to deal with this using my motherly death ray stare. Our next drama was by the paper towel rolls where he heard a particularly catchy song via the store speakers. I saw him jump out of the car and then begin raising his elbows side to side. Thinking he was in pain, I rushed to his side only to be informed that he was "dancwin." After he got his groove in, I managed to get him back in and finish up the shopping.

Things went fairly smooth until check-out. It's amazing how a child can miraculously sprout the arms of an octopus when you are trying to load your groceries, find your debit card, and answer "No!" 17 times when your child repeatedly asks for Skittles or Hubba-Bubba. Picking chewy, icky things out of my car's carpet was no fun and I learned my lesson.

As I frantically rushed to unload my cart and keep Gunny contained in the car portion, I saw out of the corner of my eye that he had located a magazine and was reading it. He was pacified and quiet, so I let it be while I finished up.

In front of our cart, was a sweet little lady completing her purchase. She smiled sweetly at Gunny and commented on what a precious little boy he was. I smiled back with my teeth - sans eyes - because I know the inner toddler demon who puts on a good show for sweet little old ladies. As she shakily wrote out her check, I could hear Gunny call to me.

"Momma. Mommmmaaaa. Momma! Wook at her buttcwack. Its got poop in it! It stinkkksss!" he proclaimed with a shriek to emphasize the stinky portion of his observation.

I looked down, appalled, as to what my sweet little boy was referring to. Opened up in his lap with his chubby, little grimy finger pointed to a firm bikini clad hiney, was the current Sports Illustrated swim-suit edition. He was ever so carefully slipping through the pages to see how many "buttcwacks" he could locate.

The little old lady in front of us smiled, "What did he say?" and I answered back that Gunny didn't yet talk but was very loud with his sounds. Whatever she thought she heard, she surely didn't. Afterall, he was such a precious little boy. Right.

After I pried the magazine ou of his sweaty little grips, refusing to buy it much to his lispy protests, I took him out to the car and had the "buttcwack talk" with him. Again.

"Gunny, everyone has a butt and everyone poops." I looked back at him and saw him listening intently.

"Dat's wight, Momma. Evywon has buttcwacks. And poop stiiiinnnkkss!"

Well, he has the right idea, it's just a matter of getting him over this current butt affliction and onto a less embarrassing infatuation. I doubt that will ever happen - especially with little boys.