Humiliation at the Kroger

Once, when they first came out, I tried the self check-out lane at the grocery store. It took twice as long as waiting in line so I, like most sane people, never used it again. Then the anti-human grocery store moguls decided to try to force us all into using them, by only opening ONE normal checkout line at busy times, like the Friday afternoon pre-dinner rush. So today I thought to myself, you know what? I'm going to give the self-checkout lane one more shot. Bad idea. Marley started crying, and since I was furiously scanning produce and the like, I was unable to comfort her. The woman behind me in line asks, "Awwww....is she spowulled?" (Translation, for those who don't speak southern: "Is she spoiled?")

Me (in my head): Did you seriously just ask me if my six-month-old baby is spoiled?
Me (out loud): Pardon me?
Rude southern lady: Is she spowulled?
Me (in my head): No, I think your face is scaring her.
Me (out loud): Um...no...she's tired.

At which point I was told by the self check-out machine to place my tomato on the scanner and wait, which I did. I was then told to place my tomato into a bag, which I did. Then it told me to take the tomato out and put it back on the scanner, which I did. Then the teenage boy whose job it was to stand by and watch while people made fools of themselves trying to pay for their groceries said to me, "Ma'am, put your tomato back in the bag."

Me: But it just told me to take it out.
Teenage boy: It's okay ma'am. Put the tomato in the bag.

That is the absolute last time that my spoiled baby and I EVER go through the self check-out lane.

And here we are in Utah last week with Eric's family, minus his sister. She was working and will be photo-shopped in at a later date (which is why Eric's mom has her arm stuck out at an odd angle). And yes, little Eric is totally itching his crotch.