Henry was my little helper yesterday when we went grocery shopping. And by "helper," I mean he constantly fought with me about pushing the cart because "Grammy let him do it." I'm sure Grammy didn't let him careen around the store like it was bumper cars. Always an adventure.
So after we had our little power struggle in which Henry learned (again) that I mean what I say and I want him to be safe, we had an uneventful trip to the checkout lane where he put up a token protest because I wouldn't buy the ginormous water gun. When we were done and on our way out, he asked if he could push the cart. There was no one between us and the door and I figured he could manage a few feet without wreaking havoc and destruction.
Henry's face lit up and he got behind the cart, stretching a bit to reach the handle. Then he hunkered down, bracing his feet in an oddly familiar pose before he took off. He didn't make it very far.
Mama: Stop! What are you doing, Henry???
Henry: I'm like HARRY POTTER pushing his cart at the train station!
Glad he didn't run into a wall trying to get on Platform 9 3/4.
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