“Wait, wait, wait –” “But it’s healthy!”
“Well, how much is it?”
“Four ninety-nine! C’mon, it’s vitamin B12 and teenage girls never get enough of it!”
“I don’t know …”
“Aw, what kind of mother begrudges buying vitamins for her beloved daughter?”
The girl’s face was alight with laughter and imminent victory: “It’s not like I’m trying to convince you to buy kielbasa and potato chips!”
I had to concede that this was so, and into the shopping cart went the $4.99 bottle, but you have to understand that by this point the nutrient-filled, nongrocery items were beginning to outnumber containers of actual food.
People think it’s dangerous to shop with small children on account of the “pester power” that marketers constantly try to trigger with their diabolical sugared cereals and manipulative, eye-catching packaging.
Well, my depleted wallet is here to tell you that the persuasive power of under-eights is but a light breeze compared with the hurricane that a motivated young adult can summon. A teenager has the same claims on parental affection as a smaller child, but triple the reasoning ability.
“Need healthy bread, some cereals …”
The girl gave a happy little jump. “Oh! Seeds!”
She darted away. Moments later she returned and, without breaking stride, tossed more containers into the cart and kept moving. Alone with the groaning cart, I gazed at a bright green label.
“Ew,” I murmured. “Odorless dietary supplement?”
“Cod liver oil, yum!” the teenager explained, reappearing at my elbow. In her arms she held a hundredweight of energy and granola bars.
“I love these. So good after exercise.”
“Oh, no,” I yelped, drawing a line in the wheat germ. “I’ll buy you vitamins and flax and walnuts and omega-3 fatty acids but granola bars are just junk and –”
“And I am so grateful, Mummy, that you are helping me in my campaign to be incredibly healthy.”
“But –”
“Just think, when you are old and frail, I will be able to take care of you because of all the protein and vitamins in these granola bars!”
It was impossible not to laugh. She pressed her advantage. Did I realize how grateful she was, for my love and support? Did I understand how much better a teenage athlete felt, when she had finished running or rowing and could bite into a restorative granola bar? Did I know that she would, in fact, conserve the bars so that it would be a very long time before she asked for more?
Then, in the middle of the store, she threw her arms around me. “Plus, I’m in the grip of a health craze!” she cried. “Thank you for understanding!”
The granola and energy bars cascaded into the cart.
“Now off to find healthy bread,” the girl called over her shoulder.
As she disappeared down the aisle, the receding slap-slap-slap of her flip-flips sounded like nothing so much as sardonic, fading applause.
Meghan Cox Gurdon’s column appears on Sunday and Thursday. She can be contacted at [email protected].
