Dramatic goings-on in the supermarket

I go to the supermarket every day with Emma and Gloria. It is usually a fun trip in a totally nightmareish sort of way. Fun for Emma, who saunters up and down the aisles filling her baby trolley with whatever she can reach; and a total nightmare for me, who puffs and pants after her getting very shouty and exasperated by the time we reach the till.

Today's trip started like any other. Emma playing with the nicely-reachable, perilously-sharp bread tongs, lugging around 1kg of polenta just 'because' and re-arranging all the packet soups. We got hissed by an elderly man when she left a 4 pack of yoghurt on the floor. (Usually there is more hissing than this. I am the only person I know who lets a 2 year old unleashed on the shop floor. I don't think it is a very Swiss thing to do.)

After casually discarding the polenta, the 7 concealer sticks, the plastic necklaces and 3 pack of men's briefs, we paid for our goods and prepared to go. I turned my back for a second: Emma was gone. "Emma!", I said in a voice that was firm, friendly and sort of loud. No response. I scanned the area - no Emma.

My throat went dry. I abandoned Glorymouse and the shopping and dived back into the supermarket, running up and down the aisles. I called out "Emma!" over and over again, loudly. Nothing. I came back, my heart racing: then ran into the opticians and the pharmacy next door. No Emma. She's under a car. She's been abducted.

By this time I was getting stared at by everyone, but wasn't in the mood for being culturally sensitive. I went into the other supermarket over the road and ran up and down the aisles shouting her name like a lunatic, and starting to cry. No Emma. When I got to the entrance, a kind person came up to me and said "Madame! We've found her." I rushed back to the original supermarket. There, in the arms of a buxom and friendly-looking lady, was my errant girl. She seemed very happy to be there, and rather upset that I had come to take her away from her new friend.

"She was in the restaurant, sitting quietly at a table waiting to be served," said the lady.
"Merci, merci" I mumbled, having suddenly recovered all my cultural sensitivity and wishing the ground would swallow me up. Emma was deposited into my arms. "Don't ever do that again," I said, or something like it trying to be very stern though my voice was wobbly. She had been gone for a maximum of about 10 minutes.

I left in a hurry - only to have to go back again, blushing and muttering. Little fingers had stashed away undesired and unpaid for items under the pram. (A packet of olives and a large cheese.)

The next time I go to the supermarket I will wear dark glasses and a large hat.