The Supermarket. A survivors tale continued...

Prisoner's log, 7.15am:  After discovering we have nothing in the house for breakfast other than a slice of slightly stale bread, a yoghurt that went off three days ago, and some questionable bananas that were hidden under a pile of school artwork and forgotten about until now, I resolve to suck it up and take Puds food shopping after the school run.

Prisoner's log, 7.20am: Pickles makes a complaint about how rubbish the breakfast offerings were this morning and that she will be expecting something better for dinner. She suggests a trip to "Old McDonalds" for a happymeal and chocolate milkshake. Got to hand it to her, the kid knows how to think on her feet. I let Pickles know that won't be necessary as I will be going to buy shopping while she is at school, and will be able to make her a proper dinner. This is met with the same response as if I had just told her I will be serving up sauté slugs with frogspawn jus.

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Prisoner's log, 9.04am: I strap Puds back into the car after dropping Pickles at school and let him know of our plans for a trip to the supermarket. "NO SHOP!" he yells at me, making an attempt to gouge my eyes out with razor sharp finger nails I forgot to trim for the millionth day in a row.

Prisoner's log, 9.05am: I call Nanma for back up. Surely there is something she needs from the supermarket too?!

Prisoner's log, 9.07am: We swing past Nanma's house en route to collect her. She's delighted to see Puds as usual, especially as he has his gloriously squishy legs out today in some shorts. Puds could not care less about Nanma, he just shouts for Spirit, her dog, or "Piri" as Puds calls him, who he thinks is the best thing on this planet...or at the very least a close second to Barney Bear cakes...which we have also run out of...

Prisoner's log, 9.16am: We park the car and I feel prepared. I have my bag of wonders, I have snacks, I have a drink, I have toys, I pilfered Puds favourite toy; a pink laptop that belongs to his sister when she wasn't looking, I am Supermum! I can do this!

Prisoner's log, 9.17am: I can't do this. Puds reacts like the trolley is on fire when I try to sit him in it. Nanma distracts him for me while I bend his legs and slide him into the seat. He's furious when he realises he's been tricked. I give him the pink laptop to calm him down. Seems to be working so far.

Prisoner's log, 9.20am: Puds has suddenly realised we are not in the supermarket that gives out free fruit to children as bribery to keep them quiet for five minutes, while their parents frantically try and remember what was on the shopping list they left on the kitchen counter, and how many loo rolls were left in the bathroom that morning.

Prisoner's log, 9.21am: Puds. Is. Furious. What the hell kind of a supermarket doesn't give out free 'nanas?! He throws his sisters laptop across the fruit and veg aisle and then throws his dummy in the opposite direction so it slides under the display of onions, and I have to lie on the floor to reach under and fish it out. All the while Puds has turned a lovely shade of raspberry pink, and is screaming that he wants 'nanas at the top of his impressively loud voice.

Prisoner's log, 9.23am: Nanma has taken a single banana to the till in an attempt to quell the errupting volcano that is my two year old.

Prisoner's log, 9.24am: Nanma returns with the banana and Puds transforms into a "butter wouldn't melt" little angel.

Prisoner's log, 9.28am: We make our way down the cold meats aisle. Puds spots the cocktail sausages. What is left of the banana is flung to the floor and I can see him beginning to boil again. A packet of mini cheddars from my bag is thankfully enough of a distraction here.

Prisoner's log, 9.30am: Similar happens at the deli counter when picking up some satay skewers for Pickles. I wheel him away while he leans round me frantically pointing and shouting at the poor lady behind the counter. He scowls at her as we turn the corner.

Prisoner's log, 9.31am: I realise my fatal error. We are now in the yoghurt aisle. Puds wants "og og" and he wants it now! He tries to unclip his belt to climb out of the trolley. If I won't get them for him, he will bloody well get them himself!

Prisoner's log, 9.33am: The cheddars are now scattered across the floor. I'm elbow deep in the fridge cabinet looking for the wind up toys he has thrown. The laptop has a small dent in it, but thankfully still works. His Monkey Baby doll is being wacked in frustration and repeatedly thrown from the trolley with mournful cries of "Oh no! Baby!"

Prisoner's log, 9.36am: Puds has spotted his favourite smoothie cartons and demands one. I cave and open the box. I have come to the conclusion that Puds thinks the supermarket is basically an open buffet.

Prisoner's log, 9.47am: We head down the bread aisle with Puds shouting "CAKE!" at the top of his voice.

Prisoner's log, 9.48am: A lovely lady restocking the shelves has clearly heard his dulcet tones echoing around the shop and produces a broken gingerbread man from behind the bakery counter. Puds is placated. This lady has my undying love and eternal gratitude. Puds scowls at her and suspiciously sniffs the gingerbread man, before staring straight at her and snapping the gingerbread man's head off. Thankfully the lovely lady is blinded by Puds' cuteness and can't see the devil child lurking beneath the surface.

Prisoner's log, 10.06am: The rest of the shopping goes fairly smoothly thanks to the gingerbread man. We pull up at the till.

Prisoner's log, 10.08am: Puds thinks it's hilarious to grab and throw on the floor everything I place on the conveyor belt.

Prisoner's log, 10.11am: I've left my purse at home. Bollocks.

Prisoner's log, 10.12am: Nanma to the rescue! She pays and I transfer her the money. Thank goodness for technology and parents!

Prisoner's log, 10.16am: Back in the car after wrestling Puds back into his car seat that is apparently made of nails (or so I gather from his reaction to sitting in it).

Prisoner's log, 10.17am: Resolve to only ever do shopping online from now on.

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Prisoner's log, 12.17pm: Realise that after all of that, I forgot the sodding loo roll...and the Barney Bears...