Oy vei!

So it's Jon's first day back to work and my first day home alone with the boys since early June.  On our way home from gymnastics class this morning we stopped at the farm market because we literally ate the very last of the food we had for our picnic lunch at the gym.  We're 7/8ths through the farm market, in the very last aisle, and things are going splendid- aside from the fact that the boys were packed into one cart like sardines covered in bags of fruit and jugs of milk.  As we're rounding the corner into the last aisle to grab some whole wheat pasta, Caleb pulls up his fingers so he is pointing into the shelves of tortilla chips, makes what can only be described as a 3 year olds pretend gun noise, and yells "TORPEEEEEDO!" at the top of his little lungs.  I am not phased.  "Please do not shoot torpedos in the farm market," I tell him calmly.  Okay mama.  Six seconds later he rears up his little fingers, shouting "TORPEEEEEDO!" while firing at the cheddar cheese. I am still not phased and I calmly repeat "Please do not shoot torpedos in the farm market."  I hear a slight chuckle behind me but I do not turn around to acknowledge it lest my dear Caleb realize he has an audience.  We make it four more feet down the aisle and this time Caleb lines up the poor lady who chuckled, "I TORPEDO'D YOU!!!!" he shouts with an excitement that can only result from a direct hit.  A bit more firmly, I say, "CALEB- You may NOT torpedo people in the farm market!!"  Another chuckle.  "BUT I'M A GERMAN MAMA!  I'M A WORLD WAR ONE GERMAN!!!"  I am still calm, calm enough to firmly but gently insist that he is not a WWI German, he is Caleb and he is helping me do the shopping.  The lady behind us is laughing out loud.  "But mama, I'm gonna be a World War I German when I grow up!  And then I can torpedo people!"  Not in the farm market I tell him.  Now the lady is in full on hysterics.  I'm afraid this lady is going to wet herself in the pasta aisle she is laughing so hard.  I am not sure what she is laughing at- Caleb shooting her with a torpedo, the fact that my son wants to be the enemy from the first world war or the fact that I never so much as raised my voice or missed a step while walking down the aisle while this little scene unfolded.  I wanted to tell her that this was not the first time my 3 year old has told me he wants to be a WWI German when he grows up.  I also wanted to tell her that I do not usually keep my cool like this!   My ability to keep calm finally paid off and Caleb stop firing torpedo's in the farm market.  I impulsively grabbed myself a half-gallon of ice cream at the end of the aisle and boogied out of there before Caleb had time to open his mouth again.  It's gonna be a looooong school year!!!!