What you see here are two kids thrilled to be at Kroger with Daddy who lets them drive the race car carts. I put my foot down. When I go to Kroger, the last thing I need, in addition to juggling a bag, my list, my two kids and my concentration, is to have to heave my bodyweight behind the ginormous race car carts. It's bad enough trying to maneuver a regular cart amidst the towering floral displays that stand between me and my butter, eggs and milk. I can't tell you how many times lately I've just nicked a display that almost came tottering down around us.

So, when it comes to race cars, I just flat refuse to do it. When the kids want their race car fix, it means Kyle has to make a Kroger run. And he made one tonight so I could finish dinner, and I love him for it. As do the kids.