I think my keys willfully defy my possession. One bagger boy helping the woman next to me was tipped off by my routine key search the other day. He went to check the register, and the lost and found while I began crawling around in the car, my not-so-small rear end raised far higher into public view than it ever should be.
Whether a grand miracle, a testament to my parenting skills, or just evidence that this happens frequently, Sam is standing quietly next to the car- no whining or crying in the scorching heat, entertaining Levi. Good thing, beacause I’m determined this key must be found, but when Bagger Boy returns- no dice. I head in to retrace my steps, and assure Bagger Boy that we’ll be fine, but you’re about to discover that this is no ordinary bagger boy.
I get Sam a little som’-som’ for her trouble. (I only hesitated a moment before using food as an incentive). Now if she gets fat, she can blame her food issues on me. Anyway, I’m telling my daughter what a unique opportunity we have to test our memories (I think she was a little weirded out when I said a prayer out loud next to the cuccumbers) when Bagger Boy reappears, offering to bring my cold groceries into the cooler. Sam and I move on to the cheeses, but meet Bagger Boy again on our way toward the the milk. He has spoken with the grocery managers of each section- they haven’t seen jack.
I begin wondering how much Bagger Boy gets paid- this kid is on a mission. I thank him again, and move to the canned goods.
Me: If I don’t find it, I can call my husband.
Bagger Boy: Is he gonna be mad? Does he have the copy?
Me: He’s pretty even tempered; we’ve been married a while, too, so he’s accepted that I lose almost everything. I lost the only other copy just last week.
Geeze, I didn’t mean to frighten the poor boy! Upon sharing these personal tidbits with Bagger Boy, I wonder aloud: Is your manager okay with you helping us?
Apparently, said manager is aware, and Bagger Boy is here to the end. Oh, well; searching under shelves holding a baby now clearly communicating his hunger wasn’t exactly easy by myself. At the other end of the store empty-handed, I give Matt a call, and inform Bagger Boy I’ll just wait. When he insists on checking the car one more time, though, I accept.
I stop once again at the free sticker machine, and apologize to my little girl again. “That okay, mommy. Sometimes that happen you lose your key. Sometimes it does.” As I wonder what I did to deserve her, I look up to find Bagger Boy coming into view waving the key in his hand. Super Bagger Boy!!!
I have just one question: Is this key the one I lost that morning, or the copy I misplaced before?