While shopping for groceries for our Father's Day BBQ, my son Misha saw a box of sugary cereal with a dump truck on the front of the box. This was my first grocery shopping experience alone with the boys since we arrived home from Russia in early May. Of course I said no to the cereal, because he and his brother have enough naturally occurring energy and do not need extra sugar to add to their activity levels.
Well, Misha had a fit about my saying no. If the truth be told, his fit was more like a full-blown tantrum. In the store. While I am pushing him in the cart, along with his brother Sasha. And there are lots of shoppers because of Father's Day the next day. Here is how the three-way conversation went down...
"Dump truck, dump truck, ya kachoo (I want) dump truck," yells Misha at the top of his lungs. "No, we are not buying the dump truck cereal, we already have cereal at home," I reply in my best patient-Mama voice. Sasha chimes in "Slusheit (listen to) Mama, no dump truck!" Each of these sentences are repeated multiple times as I hurriedly push my cart to get what I need and get out of the store with at least some semblance of honor and sanity. But the kicker is this...
Since Misha is Russian-speaking and just learning English since he and his brother were adopted in April and came home in May his pronunciation is still developing. So he pronounces "Dump truck" as "Dumb *uck!" Yes, the f-word comes out loud and clear in place of the work "truck"! Nobody can prepare new mothers of older adoptive children for this kind of experience. It's just not in the adoption books, or websites, or community boards online.
So, I continue to emphatically reply and annuciate the words dumP and TRuck up and down the aisles. My goal is to get to the deli counter where all I want is a ball of fresh mozzarella cheese to go with the tomatoes and basil already in the cart. The deli man asks if he can get anything for me. I reply, "hopefully you have sanity on sale back there, because I'd appreciate getting a pound or two". Listening to the dumb-*uck tantrum going on in my cart he replies, "Lady, I feel for you. I've got a pre-schooler at home too. Don't worry, things will get better soon." And he was right. Things did get better... as soon as my little darlings fell asleep on the way home in the car. Ahhhh, what a luxury silence can be!
