Today is the day (oh joy)
I’ve been dreading this task on my to-do list for a month or more. I’ve just gotta do it. Besides. I’m no coward. Not much of one anyway.
Taking Duck shopping for school clothes or for any inner/outer body apparel isn’t easy. I’m starting to believe that my mastering the fine art of small talk with Attila the Hun in a single afternoon may be easier to accomplish.
Though for once, I’m in total agreement with Duck.
I hate shopping for clothes. I’m not a clothes horse and neither is he. I’d rather clean the bathroom after giving the dog a bath, take a trip to a PortaPotty left out in the hot sun for a year, or donate blood and pass out from low blood pressure than do the run through department store hell.
One of the fastest ways to make me snarly is to catch a glimpse of my fading tan and body flaws, displayed in horrifying HD-like detail, in a changing room mirror.
Meaner than the realization I’ve overslept on a work day and smarter than the spider outwitting my shriek and eye covered swats, clothes shopping bites.
You can drive a Duck to a store, but you can’t make him like it.
Duck however, shares none of my loathing for shopping reasons, he hates it for a much less complex one. He hates it because it isn’t fun.
And he isn’t afraid of voicing his displeasure about it.
Duck’s a firm believer in freedom of speech, even with the whispered threats through clenched teeth and a fake smile, threats of eternal groundation, of doing my laundry for years, even that of further Xbox explorations, to be done under his user name, once we make it back home, isn’t phasing him.
What to do, what to do.
His declarations of woe are growing louder by the moment, something that anyone within 1000 yards having poor to moderate hearing can’t un-hear. It’s ear rape of the worst kind.
We are drawing attention and not the adoring, ‘Oh look at what a wonderful well behaved son she has’, kind. Clearly, I need to act fast.
What to do, what to do.
Jeez…if grounding won’t work, what will?
Well, if ya can’t make him stop… roll with it. Time to take a page from my Dad’s playbook. It did work on my sister…
Gathering my courage and dropping my dignity, I clear my throat.
“Ladies and gentleman, can I have your attention please? My name is Chris Lee and this is my son, Duck.
A truly lovely young man when he isn’t causing us all to suffer from tinnitus because he hates clothes shopping, his interests are fossils, Xbox, and pretty girls.
Can we have a round of applause for his admirable command of the English language in expressing his displeasure today? Take a bow, Duck, you’ve earned it.”
Duck’s diatribe falters and halts. He’s staring in shock and wanting to run far, far away. Too bad for him that I drove.
Giggles and then outright laughter from the back of the store before the applause.
A standing ovation, how cool is that?
Thanks Dad, I owe you one.
Duck whispers through his clenched teeth (wonder where he gets that?) that he’s very angry and doesn’t like me at the moment. I whisper back that I have a whole store who likes me now, so who needs him?
A mute Duck pouts out of a store…