Training Wheels


Ladies, I need you to do something for me. No, not that.

I need you to reevaluate your man’s readiness to go food shopping alone. The training wheels may have come off too early.

It’s Friday. 5-ish at the grocery store. The only times it’s busier in Alabama is on football Saturday or if there’s a 1% chance of snow.

I’m no stranger to the aisles. I love to cook. My first job was at Food World. Hell, I even learned to count to a thousand there! Mom loved to play hide and seek when I was a kid, and she was a champ at hiding. Most times the police gave me a lift, and oddly enough she was always at home, packing her suitcase. Silly mom!

Anyway, being a pro and all, I can zip through the store faster than a Vegas wedding. But not today. Today, it was filled with men grabbing stuff on the way home, and with their skill sets, they had no business being there.

They didn’t know where anything was. They aisle blocked. They staggered around like zombies, their empty stares trying in vain to figure out the difference between shoepeg corn and super sweet corn. Ain’t nobody got time for that!

I know, I know. We all have to start somewhere. But there are handicapped parking places, signs for student drivers, why not some colored carts to alert other shoppers? Call it the Baby Steps Program. Or maybe you bring them in at off-peak hours with a short list to see how they do. Just do something.

It’s for their safety, really. I throat punched one guy who got too close to me and my Honey Nut Cheerios. I almost stabbed another man in the neck for taking too long to pick out an onion. Are you cooking for the Pope? Move along, rookie!

Would you turn a toddler loose in a Black Friday Wal-Mart sale, one day after her first wobbly steps?  Would you let a sixteen year old drive your shiny new BMW in a NASCAR race?

Seriously ladies, please consider putting the training wheels back on for your men. They may not make it home if you don’t.

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