Smart Cookies and Santa
Julia wants a kitchen for Christmas. Though she can make us countless bowls of make believe soup with the shoddy leftover peices of our tupperware collection, it's time to invest in some "REAL" play food, dishes, and a place to prepare it. Forget using your imagination. The kid needs mini cupboards, a tiny stovetop, and oven "mittens, " as she calls them.
When we spied a clever and attractive children's kitchen at COSTCO we merely spied it. We did not lift it into our cart and haul it home. When we were ready to buy, it was gone.
SO. We headed to the next best kitchen buying locale, Toys R Us. We debated beforehand about how best to accomplish the purchase. Would my husband go alone to get it? That would be good because then Jooge wouldn't be there with us. But, then I couldn't help pick it out. If I went and got it without him, it would be too hard to do with both kids.
We took both kids. We went on a Sunday. It was a MADHOUSE. I HATE going to places like that when they are super busy. Anyway, we stood in the kitchen aisle (or attempted to stand as we were constantly rearranging ourselves to let mad shoppers pass) and contemplated our four choices. My husband wanted the BIG ONE and I thought it was too much. When we finally decided on one I took the girls and maneuvered them back to the car so my husband could buy the kitchen. Had Jooge heard our entire conversation? You betcha. Were her wheels turning?
Oh yeah.
He paid and then we drove around back to pick it up. They put it into the back of the station wagon. ( Three inches from her head!) Of course there was a big old picture on the box and the lady was like, "Shouldn't we turn this around? It shows what it is." (Within earshot.)
We get home and the first thing she says is, "I want my kitchen."
What were we thinking? Buying a kitchen and then acting like we hadn't? IDIOTS! Buying a kitchen but figuring she wouldn't even notice? Uh, the box is pretty huge. Bringing her with us to the aisle, discussing the options, and then discussing our plan within earshot. People, lemmie tell ya, she would have understood even at A YEAR OLD what we were doing.
I made a quick speech about how SANTA was bringing the kitchen. I insisted there was not a kitchen at our house yet and said SANTA would be bringing it. We had just gone to the store to figure out which kitchen to tell SANTA to bring. Basically, I was serving my child a big huge plate of B.S. and proving that I had truly arrived at a place called Parenthood, sans I.Q. and morality.
Anyway, we know what she is getting for Christmas. A kitchen. And she knows too, even though she has temporarily forgotten. The question is, will we be getting what we so terribly need: a big fat clue?
When we spied a clever and attractive children's kitchen at COSTCO we merely spied it. We did not lift it into our cart and haul it home. When we were ready to buy, it was gone.
SO. We headed to the next best kitchen buying locale, Toys R Us. We debated beforehand about how best to accomplish the purchase. Would my husband go alone to get it? That would be good because then Jooge wouldn't be there with us. But, then I couldn't help pick it out. If I went and got it without him, it would be too hard to do with both kids.
We took both kids. We went on a Sunday. It was a MADHOUSE. I HATE going to places like that when they are super busy. Anyway, we stood in the kitchen aisle (or attempted to stand as we were constantly rearranging ourselves to let mad shoppers pass) and contemplated our four choices. My husband wanted the BIG ONE and I thought it was too much. When we finally decided on one I took the girls and maneuvered them back to the car so my husband could buy the kitchen. Had Jooge heard our entire conversation? You betcha. Were her wheels turning?
Oh yeah.
He paid and then we drove around back to pick it up. They put it into the back of the station wagon. ( Three inches from her head!) Of course there was a big old picture on the box and the lady was like, "Shouldn't we turn this around? It shows what it is." (Within earshot.)
We get home and the first thing she says is, "I want my kitchen."
What were we thinking? Buying a kitchen and then acting like we hadn't? IDIOTS! Buying a kitchen but figuring she wouldn't even notice? Uh, the box is pretty huge. Bringing her with us to the aisle, discussing the options, and then discussing our plan within earshot. People, lemmie tell ya, she would have understood even at A YEAR OLD what we were doing.
I made a quick speech about how SANTA was bringing the kitchen. I insisted there was not a kitchen at our house yet and said SANTA would be bringing it. We had just gone to the store to figure out which kitchen to tell SANTA to bring. Basically, I was serving my child a big huge plate of B.S. and proving that I had truly arrived at a place called Parenthood, sans I.Q. and morality.
Anyway, we know what she is getting for Christmas. A kitchen. And she knows too, even though she has temporarily forgotten. The question is, will we be getting what we so terribly need: a big fat clue?
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