Trader Joe’s, the Friday before Christmas.
Grace was in the seat of the cart, which was very full with holiday groceries. We were parked next to the apples, and I had just put a couple bags of honeycrisps into the basket. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw two or three loose apples from the top of the display rolling down past Grace to the floor.
Uncertain if she had been hit, or perhaps even caused the mini-avalanche, I said, “Oh Gracie!” as I turned. The woman behind me, who had in fact knocked the apples down, looked very confused and flustered.
“Are you okay, Grace?” I asked.
The woman said, “How did you–Grace is my name.” I laughed and told her it’s my daughter’s name too.
(P.S. No Graces were harmed in the cascade of apples.)