On Saturday we had unusually warm weather. I let Will wear a T-shirt and shorts for our walk to the bank and grocery store. We had a lovely time, as the sun radiated good cheer. Will found a gumball from the sweetgum tree in our neighbor's yard, and put it in his pocket.
One of the tellers at the bank asked the lady in front of me if the little boy wanted a lollipop. She looked puzzled and said, "Oh, he isn't MINE!" We all laughed at the confusion and the teller asked me the same question, and I said, "No thanks." Will missed the exchange because he was too busy snapping those rope things that keep the the patrons in an orderly line. The last time I did my banking with Will there was a box of doughnut holes just sitting out for anyone to take. Will immediately availed himself of several before I even had a chance to notice. (His Grammy was supposed to be watching, but I think she snaffled down a couple, too.) You have to watch these branch banks and their attempts to foist sugar on you.
On the way to the grocery store, we stopped in a shop called "The Head Nut," which, because of the name, I had never even been tempted to enter. I had always thought of the store as "The Head Nut," when it's actually "The Head Nut." Because the store sells a lotta nuts, is why, not because it's a head shop, which I really didn't think it was, but in the back of my mind I guess I had felt obscurely confused. We didn't buy any nuts, but I did buy one ounce of ground coriander for 29 cents and a tube of tomato paste. A tube is what tomato paste should always be sold in, not a can. You never use the whole can, so you freeze the rest of it in a little bag, and in two years you throw it out because you don't know what is. O, but the life of most canned tomato paste is a long cold waste indeed.
We then proceeded to the grocery store, where we bought two cartons of milk We rested at a table outside the grocery store before walking back, this time lugging milk in a brown paper bag. This was actually enjoyable, walking a distance and carrying things. We need to do this more often. Shifting the weight now and then, I thought of my carless pre-internet days in the city, when what I bought was limited to what I could carry, a time when weather and the fit of my shoes were paramount to everyday life.
Will exclaimed, "A worm! Look!", but it was a twig. In the next block we did get to see our worm, its shiny gray body contracting and expanding in waves as it progressed purposefully across the sunny sidewalk. For a worm, it was rushing. I set the groceries down and we watched it. Finally it stopped and rested when it reached the end, no doubt relieved to be near grass and farther from the specter of frying in the sun.
Will found another gumball by the same tree on the way back, and he put it in his other pocket. And so, satisfied with the fruits of our walk and warmed by the sun, we arrived home. But this doesn't mean Will accepts this weather. No. He has had me read The Snowglobe Family to him a half dozen times. He wore his snowboots down to breakfast on Sunday. He! Wants! Snow!