I asked Kiah to unwrap my Taco Bell Chicken Burrito and hand it to me.
She said, “No Mom, you’re driving on a busy Minneapolis Freeway and you need to be careful.”
I said “Careful” is my middle name and I can eat and drive.
She said, “I know these are your favorite but you’ll have to wait.”
Since nothing is worse than a cold burrito, I may or may not have growled that I would get grumpy if she didn’t fork it over.
Being a stubborn soul, she said, “No Mom, this isn’t a good time.
Tortured by the sounds of food wrappers and the luscious smells of the best Mexican fast food known to man, I said, “Anna, would you PLEASE unwrap my burrito and hand it to me.”
Sweet-natured (most of the time) Anna, not sure whether to listen to her desperate mother or her bossy older sister shrugged her shoulders and said, “Just a minute.”
I told my daughters I DID NOT want to go to the Mall of America
They said everyone should go at least once in their life.
I told them I DID NOT want to drive in big city traffic.
They offered to drive.
I told them we didn’t need anything.
They said they just wanted to look.
I told them they had an hour to shop
They said an hour wasn’t long enough.
I gave them an hour and a half.
They took two.
I eyed the hordes of people crawling everywhere and said to myself, “This place is insane. I DON'T want to be here.”
Myself said to me, “Quit complaining and make the best of it.”
I told the Bare Minerals Clerk I just wanted an eyebrow pencil
She convinced me I needed a $32 eyebrow kit.
I asked the clerk if they sold scalp powder to disguise my thinning hair.
The cute young clerk with the glowing flawless complexion and thick dark hair, took a long look at my aging worn-out self and thought there but for the grace of God and thirty years go I, and said with a straight face they didn’t sell that kind of thing and she didn’t know who did.
I asked the Nordstrom clerk which shade of Clinique lip gloss looked best on me.
She said, “Let’s try them and see.” After using a cotton pad to remove the first gloss and leaving lots of cotton wisps stuck to my lips, she said, “I’m so sorry.”
I told her not to worry and kept pulling wisps off.
I asked the Sees candy clerk handing out free samples, “Do you have any Sees Suckers?”
He said, “Yes, but not as a free sample.”
I asked him to point me in their direction.
He said, “How many do you want?”
Debating whether to get some for my daughters, but then deciding that they don’t have the long history with Sees Butterscotch suckers that I do, and still a little miffed that I had to shop in the busiest mall in America, I said, “One.”
He said, “Then you don’t have to pay for them. It’s free.”
I was nice and didn’t ask why it was free now but wasn’t a minute before. Knowing I had died and gone to sucker heaven, I took my sucker with childish glee and said, “Oh thank-you so much. These are my favorite.”
Determined to be positive about the whole experience and not wanting to be grouchy that the girls weren’t done shopping when I asked them to be, I told them when they finally returned, “I win. I got back here first.”
I told them they could share my free candy samples but not the free sucker.
They wanted to know how I got a free sucker.
I told them the clerk said any woman with enough moxie to walk through the Mall of America in a denim dress, beige knee socks, and tennis shoes deserves a free sucker.
They said, “He didn’t say that.”
I said, “You’re right. He said any woman who’s raised seven kids deserves a free sucker.”
They said, “He did not.”
I noticed that my 8 hour long-lasting Clinique lip gloss had only lasted one hour and wondered if the lasting time is proportionate to the age of the lips.
They found it humorous that I who had not wanted to go had spent the most money.
To make up for the Mall of America ordeal, I treated myself to an hour in the IKEA warehouse across the street, and told them they could come inside with me or stay in the car.
One hour and two cutting boards, food chopper, glass pitcher, doormat, computer lap desk, cheese grater, wooden spoon set, dish towel, two picture frames, and two packages of nice white napkins later, I told them our time in the land of perpetual traffic was over. It was time to head home.
Two hours later, Kiah at the wheel said, “Mom could you unwrap my Chalupa and hand it to me.”I said, “No, dear. I heard it’s not a good idea to eat while you drive.”
I'm sure there's a moral in this story somewhere. Can anyone help me think of one?
