It is 8:30 pm and I am on my way home with DB from the last night of a marvelous but exhausting week of Vacation Bible School. (And I wasn’t even teaching. So wimpy that I get worn out from merely attending VBS.) But oops, I realize I need yogurt. This is an errand that cannot wait, because DB will eat nothing else for breakfast. We have a small amount in the fridge, but this will not be enough. I have been instructed to consume a daily dose of “good” bacteria to forestall side effects from the antibiotic that is, in its mercy, finally making a dent in this sinus infection I have been hosting for weeks. So: DB needs it, I need it. Must. Buy. Yogurt.
However: Neither DB nor I has been home since 8:30 this morning. DB has had no dinner to speak of, having eschewed the delicious and balanced meal the ladies of the church have lovingly provided. And after spending hours at school and then more hours being a Good Listener in VBS, DB’s capacity for behaving in a civilized manner has been reached. We are done. If we have to park the car, go into a store, wait in line, and get buckled back in the car seat, we are guaranteed to have a major problem (either DB or I will melt down, and it’s not clear which of us will hit bottom first). What to do?
I did this once before when we were out of milk, and I’m not proud of it – but it works. There’s a certain ubiquitous fast-food establishment that sells what I need, and I don’t even have to get out of my car. No buckling/unbuckling, no can-I-push-the-little-cart wrangling, no standing in line full of colorful eye-level temptations.
McDonald’s as emergency drive-through grocery store. If only they sold toilet paper and peanut butter, I would be a regular.