“These are all the things we need, Cog. The items are located in different parts of the store.” She points out signs hung above each aisle. “The signs will show you where some of the items are located. But some items aren’t marked on the signs, so you’ll have to devise other ways of locating them.”

“Are you not going to be supervising me?”

“Nope! Remember, the point of this lesson isn’t just shopping. It’s learning how to be independent.”

“I assumed you would be walking alongside me as I was learning to be independent.”

She waves her hand toward a cluster of chairs and tables on the far side of the store. “I’ll be right over there, drinking coffee and catching up on work.” She ruffles my hair. “You can do this.”

I take a look at my list and begin pushing my cart.

Cheese is the first item. Moving along the end of the aisles and reading the signs, I find the cheese aisle quite independently. The cheese is kept in an open refrigerated case. There are racks and racks of cheese. Bins of cheese. Round blocks of cheese. Rectangular blocks of cheese. Square packs of sliced cheese. Bags of shredded cheese hanging from hooks. American cheese. Mexican cheese. Italian cheese. Monterey Jack cheese. Pepper Jack cheese. Mozzarella cheese. Cheddar cheese. Sharp cheddar cheese. Mild cheddar cheese. Romano cheese. Parmesan cheese. Shredded Mexican cheese blend. Shredded Italian cheese blend. Cream cheese. String cheese. Goat cheese. Whizzy Cheese, which is a kind of cheese that sprays forth from a can.

When I walked into Giganto Food Super Mart I possessed a vocabulary of 37,432 words. In the time I have stood in the cheese aisle, my vocabulary has increased by fourteen. All my new vocabulary involves cheese.

I load the cart with every kind of cheese, including four blocks of mozzarella cheese, because mozzarella cheese is pizza cheese. The cart is full when I finally push it away from the cheese aisle. The wheel wobbles. I suppose bugs can arise at any moment.

The next item on my list is toothpaste, and I find the toothpaste very independently.

There are almost as many varieties of toothpaste as cheese.

But maybe I do not need to obtain toothpaste. Toothpaste and Whizzy Cheese seem to share key similarities. Perhaps I can brush my teeth with Whizzy Cheese.

I skip toothpaste and continue to the next item on my list.

I am not very good at shopping, it turns out.

I report back to Gina, struggling along with two buggy shopping carts piled with mounds of cheese and toilet paper and peanut butter and no toothpaste. She puts her hand on her forehead, a gesture that I have learned can mean she has a headache.

“You did not put aspirin on the list, but I know where it is. I will go get another cart.”