Wal-Mart was a madhouse, just as Remy had feared. Even though his son was too old to ride in the shopping cart, Remy made Braden get in it at first just so they wouldn’t get separated. But as he started piling more and more into the cart—groceries and meat and fresh fruits and veggies, frozen treats like ice cream and pie, toilet paper and paper towels and shampoo and shaving cream, aspirin and Band-Aids and everything they should’ve thought to bring with them but hadn’t—as more things went into the cart, Braden soon became lost beneath it all. “Dad!” he cried, arms in the air for a little help. “Get me out!”
So Remy made him push the cart, and walked closely behind him to make sure they stayed together. Soon their cart was overflowing, but when he went to get a second one, there weren’t
