Monkey: I wuv you, Mabel.
Monkey: You’re the bestest.
Mabel: I don’t beweeve you.
Both: Hysterical laughter.
Mother experiences hubris as she pushes her delightful children around, watching the smiles of passersby admiring the two blond heads munching contentedly on their bagels and driving their car-trolley.
Nemesis clatters her over the head: “I wanna get ouuuuut.”
Nonetheless, things continue pretty well. Both children walk/skip/jump close by as she makes her way through the vegetable department, remembering how child 1, at just two years, would have been a disaster on wheels in this situation: once released from his bonds, he was like a mobile destructo-robot set to maximum carnage and knockage-over. Somehow, having two helps them orbit in smaller circles, and child 2 is less prone to examining everything from point-blank range.
Nemesis strikes again after the checkout when the toddler screams and refuses to be put anywhere safe for the journey back across the car park. Toddler is stuffed unceremoniously into the back-carrier. Passersby are still smiling, but somehow it’s different now…
Child 2: I need a fork for my broccoli. [Proceeds to eat all her broccoli.]
Mother: [Last laugh.]