"Why do all the people at Walgreens have bad manners?"

Gavin just randomly popped that question at lunch today while we he was drilling some fish sticks, macaroni and cheese, grapes, carrots and cucumbers. It sounds like a pretty random assortment, but we have been focusing with him on making sure he has all his food groups with each meal and have empowered him to choose his own lunch as long as he hits all groups. He still struggles with understanding grains, but each day gets a little better. It was especially confusing the night we ate tamales and had to explain that corn could be a vegetable or a grain.

I started with Walgreens though and this is one of the few times that I know both the history and the answer to one of his questions. I had no idea where to even start the time he asked me why God never lets him like pickles.

We used to get our prescriptions at Walgreens and for some reason Gavin had this odd fascination with the place even though we rarely went in. Several months ago, we switched pharmacies because Walgreens always had a long line, they moved at the speed of the Comcast turtles, and frankly, they weren't very nice (other than the Goth chica that I actually grew to like after I got past staring at her black lipstick).

I told him though they didn't all have bad manners, they just weren't extra nice either. He seemed satisfied, but wasn't done.

"Let's talk about stores, grocery stores and restaurants," he proffers. Well, as much as a four-year-old can "proffer," but that word popped into my head and I'm rolling with it.

I tell him I'm game and ask his favorite restaurant.

"Wendy's."

I'm not exactly shocked. Favorite grocery store?

"Walmart."

I know this not to be true, but while I'm pondering whether to examine further, he continues. "They have Scooby Doo fruit snacks there, and can we go look at them right now even though we can't purchase them?" (I love when he says purchase).

See, Scooby Doo is Betty Crocker brand and he knows we can only buy "the K kind."

I'm enjoying this conversation, but I ignore the question and instead check the validity of his answer.

"What about Sam's?"

There are a few things that instantly make Gavin's face light up -- hearing the first few bars of Summer of 69 start on his iPod, running through sprinklers, and any mention of Sam's Club.

"Oooh, you're right Daddy," he beams with words I could definitely get used to hearing.

At this point, Bode farts very loudly (he is on laxatives for extreme constipation) and I know any chance of semi-intelligent conversation is over.