when a screaming baby is a vacation

This is our two-kid version of a date:  We take the sleeping newborn and walk through the mud to the Swedish equivalent of Wal-Mart to buy potting soil while Grandma sleeps next to the toddler.

It was great.  And it was still great even though BT screamed, literally, for almost the entire trip down all the aisles of Ica Maxi.

But, for all the noise and burping and squirming, one of us was not chasing a toddler into the ceramic figurine aisles with terror in our eyes.  We did not have to split up.  All we had to do was pass a screaming baby between us, using time-worn soothing techniques (which obviously may not work with this new one).

We talked calmly.  Our pulses did not race.  We did not fight.  We did not get frantic.  We did not leave.

And the baby eventually calmed down and slept.  And we went home to find Grandma and NK having some yogurt and baguette for their mid-afternoon snack.

Needless to say, when NK was a newborn, and we were doing this same shopping with the same screaming at an actual Wal-Mart in Matamoras, Pa, things would not have ended well.

And now E and NK can plant sunflowers and tomatoes and watch them grow all spring.

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