Last night Hope and I went to the grocery store.
It was a big deal to her. She got to move up a row in the van to sit closer to me. We chatted, she requested her current favorite, "Adventures in Odyssey."
We were having a fabulous psuedo-date (You know, the ones where you get to spend time together and still accomplish something mundane yet necessary.) until I parked the car.
I half listened as she rambled.
"Mom, (uh-huh), we can't eat your grocery list. That's gross."
"That's right, honey. Give me a second, okay?" I gathered up my grocery list, coupons, purse grab her hand and we get out and walk towards the store.
"Mom, (yes, Hope), we can't eat cars. That's gross."
"You're right. We don't eat things that aren't food." At this point I should probably mention we are shopping at the dreaded dinner hour. The store was packed; tons of people were coming and going. I should also mention, I'm married to a tall, strong man. It takes a lot of tall to make me notice.
But there was a man walking out of the store tall and big enough to make me notice, just as Hope started in again, looking at the said man.
"Mom, (yes), we don't eat people. That's just gross."
I've rarely seen a man so big that scared of a child so small.