Wanting to make Darling Husband a lovely dinner, I stopped with Baby Boy at the local gourmet shop to grab a bottle of wine (another reason every store needs a drive-thru. These 4 minute errands end up taking 35 minutes with toddler in tow).
To distract the kiddo, I gave him a container of yogurt covered pretzels while I compared two bottles of Spanish red. Within seconds not only had he disassembled the iron-clad package but had vanished.
At this point I am waiting to hear the SMASH signaling I now own hundreds of dollars of broken wine but it is silent, which mothers of toddlers know is often a worse sign.
I creep through the aisles trying to find him. I see his little form hunched over something on the floor. He is unawares of my presence. I pounce.
He is hovered over a drooly, wet, nasty pile of half-masticated yogurt pretzels, apparently decided that he hates the yogurt part, and is trying to pick out the un-chewed pretzel part.
Horrified, I grabbed him and we fled. I guess Darling Husband will have to be happy with water with his (fake meat) pot roast.