Mom's Secret Cigarettes

A true story about why mothers should think twice before taking a preschooler to the grocery store.

As a little boy, I learned early, not to tell anyone that my mother smoked cigarettes. Especially not grandma Sarah who would be very upset to hear such news about her only daughter.  In the 1940s, only certain kinds of women would smoke and that, according to grandma, was not the kind of lady my mother was.

I suppose mom believed some of that too, because she never smoked in public.  Only at home, in the car, or in the bathroom when we visited grandma.  I thought it was neat mom could do naughty stuff.  After all, naughty was one of the most fun things I knew how to do.

One day mom and I went to the market to buy groceries.  I liked those trips because I got to ride in the grocery cart and try to pull stuff off the shelf when mom wasn’t looking.  My loot always got put back, but the fun was in the game and this day when we got to the cash register, I was feeling frisky.

As she was unloading the cart, mom asked the cashier for a pack of cigarettes. “They are for my husband” she said.  “No, they are not,” said I.  “They are for you!” “I don’t smoke,” said mom.  “Yes, you do,” said I.  The cashier got a smile on her face and so did two other ladies in line.

Now, I’ve got to tell you I was a pretty cute kid back in those days and I loved an audience –of which I had the cashier and the two other ladies.  What a performance!  Me in the cart laughing and smiling with the confidence born of the truth of my assertions.  Mom clutching her purse and bag of groceries protesting all the way out the door.

What great fun.  Until we got to the car.  Here fun in front of a willing audience met reality in front of my mother.  Without putting too fine a point on it, suffice it to say, that in the car I was still the center of attention.  But the smiling and laughing was over!