Shop 'til you drop

I just returned from an afternoon of shopping. Despite what my family may think, I really don’t like to shop. I like to buy. Please don’t mistake me, I don’t run in buying items willy-nilly. I know exactly what I want, and I like to go in the store, make a beeline for that item, buy it and repeat the cycle at the next shop.

I think this behavior stems from my childhood. My daddy hated and still hates to shop. In fact, Mom who is a step away from sainthood in my book would buy him ten pairs of blue jeans or shoes or whatever he needed and have him try them on at home and then return what didn’t fit.

At Christmas, when it came time to buy Mom’s presents, usually pot holders and bath beads, Dad would stand at the front of the store (always K-mart) and time my sister and me to see how fast we could find the items and get back. We actually loved it. I would do great in one of those contests in which you have five minutes or less to fill your buggy with free items.

My son must take after his grandfather because he has such an aversion to stores that I gave up taking him a looong time ago. I used to think he was just plain allergic to them by the way he acted—fidgeting, screaming, moaning, groaning, itching, bellyaching, etc. However, he seems to be fine in army/navy stores, toy stores and certain departments of Dick’s Sporting Goods (i.e. gun/bow and arrow) section, so I’m guessing it’s not physical.

Once I took my older daughter to the mall with my son in tow. Bad idea, very bad idea. He planted his heels into the floor and refused to budge in front of one of the ladies' clothing store. I don’t know if it was the perfume smell, the glittery dresses or the half-dressed mannequins, but my boy was not going to set foot in there. That was a girl’s store, and he knew it.

Now, I know I’m the mom, and I should be able to make him. My husband’s already told me that. But I’m here to tell you, it was impossible. I don’t care how much bigger I am, no amount of threatening, promises of ice cream or cajoling was going to change his mind. And he didn’t care how many people were staring at us, either. Finally, I looked at him and declared, “This is the LAST time I’m taking you shopping.”

Do you know he had the nerve to look at me and smile?

Fortunately, we’ve been blessed with hand-me-downs. I’ve also been known to let him run around in pants that are too short or a little too long. He doesn’t complain, and it doesn’t bother me a bit. Hopefully, he’ll grow out of it by his wedding day. If not, maybe she’ll bring the tuxes to him to try on, and if she's willing to do that, she's a keeper. Just ask my dad.