The Orange Juice to End all Orange Juices

Damn that Wegmans. Just when I thought I had all my little Wegmans addictions in check (oh ultimate chocolate cake I am talking to you), they have to go and create something new. (And no, I am not discussing the new fresh veggie bar, which while very cool does not an addiction make.)

I am looking at you Freshly Squeezed Organic Juicer. Yes you. You with your tiny samples of fresh squeezed goodness that lures you in and convinces you that 7.99 is not an extreme price for a half gallon of liquid sunshine.

I caved. I bought the millionaire juice. And I loved it. So much, that I not only bought it, but I hid it from my children.

(I gave them the store brand, non-organic, non-freshly squeezed, from concentrate juice. I hang my head in shame. SHAME.)

I hid the juice in the fridge, until one day, my Wegmans partner Griffin realized that the orange sunshine in a cup was actually in our fridge and he rejoiced! And demanded his own cup of organic goodness! And while I reluctantly shared, I told him it was our little secret. We clinked our glasses together in celebration while we drank our liquid gold huddled out of sight of my other two children. (And then gave the other two boys the store brand stuff.)

This past week, G and I are at Wegmans getting the weekly shopping done. We walk by the organic juicer manned by a Wegmans employee when Griffin yells out in a very loud, carry across the entire store voice:

"Momma! There it is! There! It's the juice you don't share! The juice you don't share!"

Commence much laughing from the other mother's shopping in the vicinity of my cart. I managed a quick half laugh as I grabbed yet another half gallon of that damn addictive orange juice and threw it in our cart.

The "Juice We Don't Share" has ruined me for all other juices. (Sob! Shaking fist at Wegmans. ) I can never go back! Never! (And neither can Griffin.)