Trader Joe's is such a joy in my life. Putting aside the wine selection for a moment (but omg the wine selection), can we please talk about those samples? They are literally what give me the ability to wander through the aisles unaccompanied by the sounds of budding sibling rivalry in the form of simultaneous desire for the exact. same. banana.
The unfortunate thing about the fact that the samples must immediately be dispensed into tiny hands if we are to maintain any semblance of peace is that I rarely get a chance to try them. I guess I could pick up a third little sample plate for myself, but I become so excited by the fact that my children are paralyzed by the sight of herb-scented quinoa mounds placed atop teeny little crackers that I just start rocketing around the store in search of the aged gouda that is my other joy in life.
But the other day I went to Trader Joe's and made my customary stop at the counter to pick up samples for Indy and Goldie, and Goldie decided that she didn't like hers (and said decision, in toddler-speak, translates to I Will Throw This Dramatically Onto The Floor If You Do Not Remove It From My Hands RIGHT NOW). So, in the grand tradition of mothers everywhere, I ate my child's partially-masticated leftovers. (If you think this is the grossest thing I did all week, you would be very, very wrong.)