I had a terrible week and the boys were trying my patience, so when I called the Mister yesterday and asked if he would like to meet us somewhere for lunch, he quickly agreed. Secretly, I think he was worried I would dust the boys’ lunch with crushed Excedrin PMs if he didn’t take us out for burgers and fries. Wise move, the Mister.
Mikey is still obsessed with dinosaurs. We go to the library weekly and bring home 3-4 books and videos, which he spends devouring the rest of the week. The idea of taking him to the library was mine after one exceptionally expensive trip to the bookstore. Prior to dino-mania, trips to the bookstore were not so frequent that they hindered our ability to buy food and diapers. But, it turns out, they are many, many books on dinosaurs–and Mikey wants all of them. So, perhaps, the Mister and I weren’t thinking strategically when we decided to meet for lunch at our favorite outdoor ’50s diner, which happens to sit across the street from Borders.
On our way to lunch I promised Mikey lunch and a trip to the park with daddy, which had him very excited. But when the rods and cones in his eyes feasted on that large, national bookstore with a cavernous children’s section and an entire shelf devoted to dinosaurs, he could think of nothing else.
Jules: Mikey, eat your food before it gets cold.
Mikey: Oh, mom. I can’t eat another bite.
Jules: Another bite? You haven’t had your first bite, my friend.
And so it went. The Mister and I imploring Mikey to eat his food while he tried to convince us to take him to the bookstore.
Jules: Mikey, I’m serious. Eat your food.
Mikey: Mom, I can’t! My tummy is telling me something. It’s telling me I need to go to the bookstore.
What Mikey needs is to go into network marketing because he is a relentless salesman. When the Mister and I bought our first house, we made the mistake of allowing a water purifying salesman in the door. Three hours later, the Mister was forcibly pushing him out the door while the salesman yelled he could outsell the Mister any day of the week while he waved the checks of little old ladies as proof. Mikey is that guy. An hour into lunch, and he was still presenting to us the features and benefits of visiting the bookstore.
The Mister: Mikey, we said no. We’re going to the library this weekend. If you want a book, maybe you should ask Santa.
Mikey: Well, actually, the bookstore is a really good idea.
The Mister: Mikey, we said NO.
Mikey: Well, I think when we get there you will think it’s great.
Finally, the Mister had enough of Mikey’s sales presentation. He was going to put an end to this compaigning by hitting Mikey where it hurt: taking away the trip to the park. Mikey, like every little boy out there, loves the park. He loves climbing, running, jumping, swinging, and getting sand in his shoes. Me? I can leave the park. There are germs everywhere and I can’t function when there is but one grain of sand in my shoe. The Mister loves the park, so he was confident he had the upper hand when he told Mikey, “Okay, buddy. I guess we won’t go to the park. What’s more fun? The park, or the bookstore?”
To which Mikey responded, “Oh, Dad, books are better than everything.”