Talking Toddler
in Grocery Cart

Some people take exciting vacations, cruising to exotic isles. Me, I travel to the grocery store and cruise up and down aisles.

Not complaining - pushing a grocery cart down one aisle and up another can be quite adventurous, especially with a talking toddler in tow.

You've heard of the Terrible Twos. Well, my daughter went through a phase called the Talkative Twos, and that could be terrible, too.

Daughter Jan Kay at that age was the littlest observer when going grocery shopping with me, constantly commenting on people she watched from her seat in the grocery cart. I walked - and she talked - the aisles.

Brunson Food Market in Baytown was her favorite, owned and operated by her grandmother's next-door neighbors John and Lorraine Brunson. She knew the Brunsons but had never met John's brother Howard E. Brunson, the movie theater mogul of eastern Harris County. I had never noticed it before, but the brothers Brunson did resemble one another.

Jan Kay, the observer, brought this to my attention the day she spotted Howard in the grocery store and mistook him for John. "There's Mr. Brunson!" she exclaimed as she watched him select fruit and veggies in the produce section.

Then she did a double take, spotting John Brunson at the same time in his familiar role behind the meat counter.

It was then that she informed Howard E. Brunson who he really was. "You're another Mr. Brunson."

Well. Glad we got that settled.

A similar incident happened at the Big Chief grocery store where she saw a man wearing a straw hat that looked like the one worn by her great-uncle, George Casey. As we passed the man in the hat, Jan Kay stared and then shook her head. She informed him: "You're somebody else's Uncle George."

I had to explain to the startled customer what was going on. He reminded Jan Kay of her grandmother's brother. "Uh ... OK," he said, turning away from us, as quickly as possible.

What he was afraid of, I don't know. We weren't going to hurt him.

At the same store, Jabbering Jan became bilingual in front of the butcher. I had taught her a few words in French, and one of them was "thanks." As the butcher handed me a package of meat, Jan Kay shouted, "Merci!"

"How come she's speaking French?" he wanted to know. Before I could answer, he came to his own conclusion. "You were a war bride from France, weren't you?"

In my best upper Texas coast accent (known as the Black Duck Bay drawl), I denied French origins. But I did like Cajun food and music, if that counted.

Up the road from Big Chief was the Lewis & Coker grocery store where Chatty Cathy almost caused a serious confrontation. I remember it well. We were at the back of the store, where I was searching for ground beef. Meanwhile, the grocery cart commentator was staring at this rather large man standing nearby.

My thoughts: Oh, no, please, not again. Not another pointed remark.

Uh-oh ... Here it comes.

"Hey, mommy, look! That man is fat!"

The fat man was not amused. "Your daddy is fat, too," he snapped back, red in the face, mad as all get-out. As he waddled away, I wanted to go after him. I wanted to grab him by the shoulder and demand, "What's that you say? My husband may be a little overweight but he's not nearly as fat as you are!"

However, I backed down from a showdown. After all, a little girl with a fat mouth started it all. She was in my grocery cart and we were the closest of kin. I was the responsible party.

I just wish Jan Kay had said "fat man" louder and in French.


© Wanda Orton Baytown Sun Columnist
"Wandering" September 2 , 2017 column