“Get some Cheerios, Mom,” said Stephen. 

“We have plenty at home,” said Mom, and walked on down the aisle. 

“Could we have some chocolates?” came the next question. 

“No.”  This answer came with a slight movement of Moms eyebrows and pursing of her lips to emphasize her answer.  On they went up and down the aisles satisfying Mom’s shopping list, with an occasional hint from her four-year-old son.  With the grocery cart filled, they made their way to a checkout line. 

With Stephen close behind her, Mom began loading her groceries onto the checkout counter.  She was about half finished when she heard a gleeful voice behind her cry out. 

“Look, Mom, a fat-head!” The voice was Stephen’s.  His face was lit up like the morning sunrise.  His eyes sparkled.  He looked as if he had made the greatest of discoveries. 

“There,” he said as he pointed up the aisle behind the checkout line.  No shoppers were in that aisle, leaving a clear view of the meat department.  The butcher behind the counter was busily at work.  He was indeed a fat man with an uncommonly large, round head, reminiscent of Charley Brown of the “Peanuts” cartoon strip.  His cheeks and jowls bounced a bit as he chopped his meat. 

Mom looked up and saw the butcher.  Her hand flew up to cover her face, flushed in a crimson glow.  Her jaw was clinched and eyes shut tight.  She clutched the boy’s arm and dragged him forward as if to hide him among the taller folks in the checkout line.  She cautioned the boy to speak quietly.  The cashier grinned while Mom, without looking up, quickly unloaded her cart.  She paid her bill, gathered her groceries, and prodded the boy along to her car. 

“We’ll talk when we get home.  You need to know what the term ‘fat-head’ means,” she said, thankful for her escape from the store.