Can we talk about Goldfish crackers for a sec? This is a safe environment, right?
While I’m wildly prepared for most circumstances, I have not gotten into the habit of having (specifically) Goldfish crackers in my diaper bag, car, house, purse, office etc. for “just in case” and this is something that I am regretting large. On this trip I have snack options — oh, are there ever snack options! You want nuts? Apple sauce pouches? Bananas? You know I have un-rippled chips and hummus! I have all those things. The problem is, I don’t have Goldfish.
I packed a couple single-serve bags that we had left over from Henry’s birthday party for the flight thinking, “and then we’ll get to Tesco and find some other snacks he will also love.” I should say, I knew full well that they don’t sell Goldfish (GFs as we’ve had to dub them to curb the tears if heaven forbid Henry hears us say “Goldfish”) in Europe because I did my homework people — I didn’t want to be wandering a grocery store with two jet-lagged babies looking for mildly nutritious snacks that Henry may or may not eat so I checked what options were available in the UK and Europe, and test drove a few of them that we also had in Canada to find some home runs. I was fully aware that there were no Goldfish, I just didn’t think it would go over the way it did.
Part of the problem is that we had some Goldfish crackers (the flight ones, remember?), so Henry knew that there was a time on the trip when they were available — his suspicion starts there. Where did they go all of a sudden, he is likely wondering.
So it starts light. Asking, then whining, until we land at devastatingly full tears. It’s comfort food for him and we’ve had a few long travel days and he just wants a snack he likes, to help pass the time on a car ride. I get it, and I apologize. “Hey, how about these cheese crackers shaped in squares?” “What about these animal crackers that are kind of similar to Goldfish crackers in that they are animals?” Nothin’. He says he will not eat those things.
The suspicion grows into hostility. At some point his opinion shifts and he now believes that I don’t have any on my person, but cannot comprehend the atrocity that they can’t be purchased ANYWHERE IN EUROPE, so presumes that we are just not buying them for him. “Please, mummy,” he begs. We walk through countless grocery stores (not just for this purpose but when we’re in a grocery store we’ll walk the snack and cracker aisles) to prove to him that we are not making this stuff up. This blows his mind. Why? Where are they?
Day four we got desperate. Like addicts we were scrounging the Internet looking for a fix to this problem. Are there North American Stores like we have British Stores? Yes, there are. Ok — amazing. Shoot, the closest one is three hours from here. Ok, do they deliver? No? No delivery. Ok, alright. Amazon. Amazon UK? Amazon Italy? Amazing! We find them. Wait, what? $11 Canadian for a bag? Plus $21 shipping?! This seems a little bit much. We want the crackers but are we setting a precedence that we can get them if we fork out $32 for one bag? We can’t do that multiple times. Surely the interest in them will pass. I have to admit…I even emailed Pepperidge Farm customer service to see if there is a carrier in Europe. This is what it has come to.
No reply from customer service (where were you when I needed you, Pepperidge?) and the interest does not fade.
Then, a silver lining. A house guest! Madison says she is coming for a visit and asks if there’s anything she can bring. I guess you know the answer, eh?
Counting down the days,