But supermarket shopping with small kids is hellish.
Worst still is supermarket shopping with small kids when you don't have a £1 coin for a trolley is the devil's idea of turning a saint into a swearing, sweating stressball.
Remember when metal shopping trolleys used to turn up in the oddest of places? In the local burn, where it made a lovely dam with crisp packets and Coke cans stuck between the brown flowing water; in a playpark where kids would turn their backs of monkey bars and roundabouts to run wild pushing and shoving one another.
Wherever it ended up, at least you could always guarantee getting one when you pulled up to do your shop.
Modern supermarkets have put a stop to all that with their requirement for a £1 coin.
In the process, they have become the curse of parents everywhere as nipping in to grab something quick for dinner requires diplomacy skills that Kofi Annan would be proud of.
Child No 2 generally objects to being plonked in the seat as we do our supermarket sweep, desperately trying to avoid the toy aisle, the sweetie aisle, the biscuit aisle, the comic aisle and the recent 'seasonal' aisle, where they try to sell you all sorts of chintz you don't need.
But at least with a trolley you can keep rein on at least one of your kids.
Any others tend to be old enough to be receptive to small bribes, which always helps.
Kids are smart, though. And shopping with a basket – no coin, no trolley! – is nothing but a free-for-all.
I had one arm breaking with the over-flowing, two-stone basket of milk and bleach and juice and all things heavy.
The other arm? That was breaking with trying to hold on to a squirming contortionist who wants to break the eggs and test the weight of the wine bottles.
Believe me, in that scenario there is nothing simple about nicking in to pick up a bag of bananas.
Child No 1 was quick to clock the lack of parental approval for coveted items – you just sneak it into the basket and, like a foodie version of Jenga, hope another item does not fall out in the process – while for No 2 freedom was a gift he simply could not ignore.
So much to touch and lift and drop and taste and climb and so many tut-tuts that seemed to follow in his wake.
It used to be getting out of work was the relaxing bit.
With the blood pressure going through the roof and the clock ticking, was it any wonder the alcohol aisle called so readily?
Next time, it's an internet shop.