March 11, 2008
I thought the 99 Cent Store would be like getting a warm hug from a giant piece of cotton candy. I thought the isles would be a treasure chest open wide with all the valuable loot glinting inside. I thought maybe, just maybe all my wildest dreams would magically come true once I stepped foot onto their shiny, lime green, linoleum floor—I thought wrong, so very, very wrong.
We drove by the overly-lit, and brilliantly colored store on our way home from dinner last night, and a strong force within myself called out, “TURN NOW! We must buy things for 99 cents!”
As we trotted along we saw brand names we never heard of, marshmallow hot dogs, and My Little Pony stationary sets.
I was instantly fascinated with all that the shelves held, and so was Berlyn:
Berlyn es siempre hacia abajo para comprar las cosas que cuestan 99 centavos
(Berlyn is always down to buy stuff that cost 99 cents)
Macaroni & Beef and Dee Dee bamboo shoots, sliced. What more could you want for dinner?
Pieces of smoked mussels? Yes please.
I don’t think we’ll be going back to the 99 Cent Store any time soon. Not that I don’t love a bargain, but it’s just conversations like these don’t happen while you’re shopping at Bloomingdale’s:
Little girl: She’s cute (pointing to Berlyn’s eyeball).
Pat: Thanks (pushing through stacks of Nilli Vanilli cassette tapes)
Little girl: He’s not my brother (gesturing to the husky little boy sitting in the cart next to her) his parents had to go to an adult-only meeting.
Pat: Oh. Okay.
Little girl: We’re watching him until his parents come home. (she does pirouettes and stumbles into a hair-remover display) I don’t really like him much.
I like to let Pat handle these types of conversations, mainly because I don’t really like to talk to children, (does that make me a bad mom?) especially ones who affiliate with ones that have parents that go to adult-only meetings.