Last night I went to the grocery store to buy breakfast and lunch items for today. That task was completed but before I went to check out, I decided to buy a special dessert for my grandchildren which had to pass the following tests:

a) It couldn't be something I crave due to my upcoming physical and ensuing weigh in and I love everything on the cookie and ice cream isle so that narrows the list down quite a bit.

b) It had to pass the parental dessert test (and they're tough) so that narrows the acceptable list down even more.

c) I didn't want it to be one of their parent's list of "acceptable desserts". Yogurt nor fruit is a dessert. Period. (The need for psychiatrists is going to spike in the 2030's to work through dessert issues alone.)

d) It has to be in a small enough package such that there are no leftovers (again, this had to do with me and not them-if there's a left over bag of Oreos, for example, that I can't resist....and I can't..it's problematic because I have a special genetic talent to gain 5 pounds in a few hours if (when) I eat them. Seriously. Damn those Bridgers genes coursing through my veins. It's their fault. Not mine.

So when you put in the mix the parents do's and my don'ts, it's a pretty narrow list of desserts that could be purchased, but I like a challenge. I walked through the ice cream aisle and it was very clear very fast that nothing fit the bill. However, I grabbed a pint of Ben and Jerry's Phish Food in case of emergency. When your kids, grandkids and grand-dogs are at the beach all at the same time, it's amazing how many emergencies arise that a scoop of Ben and Jerry's can quickly take care of. Note to anyone who is wondering (and most of you are): my mental health sometimes trumps my annual physical.

Next I walked over to the cookie aisle where I was certain there was something that would fit the bill. First I walked up the aisle and looked. Nothing. Then I backed down the aisle pulling the grocery cart with me....which is not a great thing to do at a busy Lowe's Foods in Morehead City, with apologizies to the lady who I may have had an accidental intimate encounter with-while I was walking backwards. I'm not sure she thought it was as funny as I did. Then I walked down the aisle one more time-wisely frontwards this time (and red-faced)- for one last look and nothing met my narrow criteria so I went to the checkout, disappointed that I couldn't find anything special to take home for my grandchildren. Maybe I should buy the bag of Oreos? No-don't cave. Move on to the check out. Much to my dismay, all the lines were very long (both of them-the logic of only 2 regular checkout lines on a busy weekend escapes me but that's another post for another time).

The third line was the '15 items and under' check out line and it had the least amount of people in it. I had 20 items (OK, 22), but using the logic inherited from my mother (don't ask), I stepped into that line and to erase my guilt, I allowed a gentleman with 1 bottle of wine to slip in front of me. Another man, about my age, stepped in line behind me with about the same number of items,19 to be exact, and yes I counted. Our mothers must have been cut from the same cloth. I felt relieved to have a fellow 15 items and under cheater in line with me for protection from other more honorable shoppers. Who knew that I was about to find out we had more in common that an inability to count grocery items correctly?

As I was patiently waiting for my turn to check out, I looked to the left and there was a large display of Hostess Cupcakes, HoHos, Zingers and Twinkies, each packaged with 2 cakes. I had eaten hundreds and possibly thousands of Hostess Cupcakes as a child, so it was the perfect dessert for Page and Alex. It was a favorite of mine, very retro and a small portion. No complaints from their parents, small portions and probably no leftovers-all the boxes checked. I'm also feeling very smug about all the calories I've saved by not buying the Oreos, of which the kids would have eaten 5 or 6 max and the rest...well you know how that sad story would have ended.

About that time, it was my turn to check out and as I stepped forward the gentleman behind me said, as if he was reading my mind: "So you're buying those Twinkies and Cupcakes for your grandchildren? I loved those things when I was a kid!"

I know I look like someone's grandfather but damn, please don't say it to me on the first pass. Let me pretend for a minute the Cupcakes and Twinkies are for my kids and then let me cast my eyes downward in an embarrassed way and say, "No I'm not the father, but thank you so much for thinking so. I'm actually the grandfather."

I'm tired of people assuming I'm the grandfather. Why do they think that? Don't answer that question in a way that will hurt my feelings with words like wrinkles, crotchety, gray hair, nipple-pants, old, grumpy or geezer.

I guess it could have been worse-he might have been thinking I was buying the sweets for myself. That's never happened before. Yeah, right. Thankfully he didn't know about the Oreos or see the Ben and Jerry's Ice Cream that I was buying (for Susan).

"Yes, I am buying them for my grandchildren...how did you know?"

"I just thought so. I ate those all the time when I was a kid. I'm 53 now. I hated it when Hostess went bankrupt and was so glad when they came back out of backruptcy and the HoHos and Twinkies were made again. They're my favorites." He picked them up and turned them over and looked at them with a critical eye and added, "Although they sure are smaller now than they used to be. Or maybe I'm just a lot bigger now?"

We both laughed and I added, "I was thinking the same thing. And I ate the cupcakes all the time when I was a kid. I loved them - chocolate and delicious with the cream filled center. I wasn't much of a Twinkies fan."

Then our cashier excitedly chimed into the conversation and said, "I loved Hostess Cupcakes too! My father was a dairy farmer in Idaho and every Sunday after I had milked the cows for a couple of hours, he would take me in to town and give me just enough money for my mornings work so I could buy some Hostess Cupcakes and I would eat them with the fresh milk. It was a delicious combination. I looked forward to it every week!"

She looked at me and asked, "Did you have to work to earn the money to buy your cupcakes too?"

Uh-oh. Trick question and I was in trouble. Big trouble. She was still ringing up my order so I couldn't dart out of the store like my instincts were telling me to do, so I decided to go with the cold, hard truth.

"No. My father used to drop his pocket change into a drawer and my brother, sister and I would go there if we needed change for something or another. We called it "the money drawer". If there was no change in there I'd go through my mother's old pocketbooks hanging in her closet. When in a hurry she would toss her lose change in the bottom of her purses just as Dad would throw pocket change in his "money drawer". I'd find 3 or 4 quarters in one place or the other and then I'd go 2 blocks to the local candy store, Minute Stop Grocery, where I would buy Cokes, Hostess Cupcakes and candy. The only thing I milked was my dad's money drawer or the bottom of my mom's pocketbooks. I guess I milked the number of items in the check out line too.

We all laughed but the customers waiting behind us in line were not as charmed by our cupcake stories as we were. My friend waiting to check out behind me suggested they could go to self check because we were having such a good time chatting. They were even less interested in self check out than our Hostess Cupcake stories. But as we had chatted, I bagged my groceries to make up a little for my lack of childhood milking skills and to help the line move a little quicker.

And guess what? A few minutes later as I was walking out of the grocery store, I felt good about the world in spite of the sad events in our country this week. For five or ten minutes, three strangers from very different walks of life found common ground over cupcakes and childhood memories and connected in line at the grocery store and enjoyed talking and sharing a little time together. We need more of that in this world.

And guess what else? Page and Alex were excited to try the Twinkies and Cupcakes. I'm sure it's genetic. The world can be a sad and difficult place but mostly people are good and mostly the world is a wonderful place and usually things work out well.

In times like these, reach out and talk to more people. Enjoy the journey. Love one another And eat more cupcakes. And I promise, it's all going to be OK. Look at these faces. How can it not be?

FunnyFamilyFood Lagniappe (Google "lagniappe" if you don't know what it means because it's a word that should be in your every day vocabulary....and you're welcome): The winner is Hostess Cupcakes - loved by both of my grandchildren; Twinkies - hated by both grandchildren. You'll also be relieved to know my diet is intact because the cupcakes were gobbled up (proof shown above by Alex's face) and the Twinkles weren't eaten other than one bite as a taste-test. If starving I might eat a Twinkie but otherwise, I wouldn't touch one. On the other hand, there is some Pfish Food in the freezer in case of emergency to get through the rest of the weekend. And last but not least, it appears Bridgers genes are coursing through Alex's veins just as surely as they're in mine as he asked for more cupcakes once his was gone. I may be going back to Lowe's Foods tonight after all. I'd be breaking his parent's rules, but that's rule #1 of being a good grandparent. Why didn't I think of that last night in the grocery store? And the beat goes on.....