Wednesday, February 2, 2011

Damaged Goods

The bastard Cheese Its have me in a death grip.

I hear their quiet whispers all the way from up stairs.

Eat me.  I am the most delicious snack cracker ever conceived by man.

Eat me.

Eat me, damn it.

So I do.

I am better though.  I think.  I didn't eat half the bag.  Just maybe a quarter of the bag.

It's a start! 

We made it to the Y again this morning!! Whoa, I know. 

Close your mouth.  It's not that shocking.  Henry had fun playing and dwarfing every other infant in the room.

Then we had to go to WalMart. (groan)

Michael bought a bigger car seat for Henry.  One that will last until he's a toddler and can be back-facing and then transition to forward-facing.  The man-child is looking a wee bit cramped in his old one.  So we thought we'd give it a go.

Michael gets extremely amped about things when he makes his mind up about them.

So when he decided to get this car seat and it wasn't at the WalMart in Winston he decided to drive 20 minutes to the next town over to get it from that WalMart. 

Turns out they only had one of the particular kind he had picked out.  Isn't that always the way?

The box looked like it had fallen off a semi-trailer, subsequently gotten run over by a few cars, caught in a stampede of wild boars and then massively wrapped in tape by the 15 year old stock boy. 

He bought it anyway. 

It was slightly damaged.  He was fine with it.

I was NOT.  I am not fine with it just on principle. 

WalMart can kiss my fat ass. 

So, I returned it.  I was so ready to pitch a fit if they questioned me about it.  I even talked to my mom on the way to get me fired up. 

I'm like a prize fighter, and she is like my coach.  She gives me pep talks before going into situations like this.  I am so serious. 

(I guess my mom would be the burly African American man in the photo?)

"Be firm, honey.  Don't take no for an answer."

My mother and grandmother are legendary.  They can get pretty much anything or return pretty much anything at any time. 

What's that?  You have a sweater that you got 2 years ago, and it has a hole in it...and you don't have a receipt. 

Bam.  Done.

They can return it for you.  Cash in hand.  No measly store credit here.  And they can probably get something else thrown in just for their trouble.

Needless to say, I was ready and rarin'.

It was all for naught.  They took it back, and I didn't even have to cry or demand to see a manager.

Not that I am the kind of person that does those things. 

All the time. 

Sometimes you just have to take a stand. 

That's all I'm saying.

I guess I love that Michael bought that car seat.  He looked past the crumply, broke-ass exterior and saw a nice, functional product.  Slightly scratched and dinged, but full of promise. 

Do I have to spell it out.  I am that car seat. 



But he bought me anyway.

No comments:

Post a Comment