Vroom, vroom, vroom, vroooooooooom! Son #2 stepped on the race cart's invisible gas pedal and mentally prepared for the race around Albertson.
"Seat belt? Check. Plastic toy wheel? Check. Mama pushing the cart? Check." Son #2 said aloud in incomprehensible baby talk.
Son #2 glanced from side to side to check out his competitors. He gunned the pretend engine one more time and then placed his hands on the steering wheel. Impatiently, he waited for the flag to drop.
Suddenly, the carts were off speeding along the aisles of the grocery store. Son #2 skidded around corners and sped along the straight-a-ways. From time to time, he would draft behind another cart and then sling shot past them when given the chance.
Every now and then, he would have to make a pit stop to grab a few grocery items. Son #2 would drum his finger tips on the wheel in frustration and complain in gibberish. "Mama, hurry up! I need to get back in the race! I need to win!"
Finally, Son #2 was coming up on the final lap. He worked his way up to the front of the pack and was fighting for first place with his nemesis, another baby in a race cart. Who would get to the check out line first? Only time could tell. With only the last turn to go, Son #2 gunned the gas pedal. He sped past the other cart and into first place. Success! He had won the race to the check out line!
Congratulations Son #2! You've won the Albertson's Cup!