During this morning’s softball game, I found myself in a familiar position: third base coach. We had more than 10 players show up and since it is the playoffs, I only care about winning. Also, that hike yesterday left my legs feeling like a hybrid of Jello and stiff rubber bands, so no complaints here. I had a meeting following the game, then promptly took a nap once I got home. I haven’t done anything of note today, so I figured I’d write about one of this weekend’s previously unreported subplots. Both Madison and Lynnette got new toys – in a manner of speaking – and I wanted to tell you about it. Of course, with Father’s Day being only a week away, there’s no way this can help but seem self-serving. You know, like OK, we get it, we got ours, so you should probably get yours , too, dad. Like I said, that can’t be helped. Except by Lynnette and Madison.
Madison saw some commercial for new Beggin’ Strips contraption. Instead of strips, the dog snack had been shaped into cubes eerily reminiscent of the hold Hubba Bubba gum. The lid of the container was built to allow a single treat to shot out of it. “I think Abby would really like that,” Madison said, in her uber-altruistic voice. “Oh, really?” I said, in my super-sarcastic voice. “Yeah, she can practice her catching!” Madison said. Ooooh, trying to appeal to my fondness of athletics, huh, Mad? Clever girl.
We went to Walmart on Friday and found no luck or the Beggin’ Popper (as it is called). We went to PetSmart and after quick glance at the treat aisle, I accosted a sales associate and began to inquire about the existence of such a thing at their store. Before I finished asking the damn question, Madison shouted at me. When I looked over, she was holding a small container and wearing a huge, huge smile. She found it.
I don’t want to blast the Beggin’ Popper back to the stone age, but it’s not what I expected. I gotta be honest, I don’t know what exactly it was that I expected, but it wasn’t a thin piece of rubber that depressed and quickly returned to its original state, hurling the treat into the air at the same time. What else could it have been? Again, silly me. I was right about one thing, though. Madison got this entirely for herself. She tries to set the treat on the launch pad, but Abby won’t even show Madison the courtesy waiting for the treat to get airborne. “BE PATIENT, ABBY!” Madison shouted that first night, which is just like the pot calling the kettle black – if the Kettle’s name was Blackie Blackenstein.
The Kate Spade Outlet in Waikele finally opened this Thursday and we were there last night. There was a short line outside the store, but surprisingly, not the kind of chaos one would have expected to necessitate it. It’s wasn’t Coach-Factory-Store-on-Black-Friday packed or anything. As you may know, Lynnette’s been a Kate Spade girl since before we started going out. Sure she has (many) handbags made by other manufacturers, but her heart belongs to Kate Spade. Sure, it isn’t a direct parallel, but it’s kind of sort of how she was sought after by many, many male suitors in her day, but ultimately chose me. The honor was and is all mine.
Lynnette was a little coy about shopping at the store, but I urged her on. There was a 40% off deal followed by an additional 20% off. Those are good numbers (I think), but argued with logic. If a Mets Clubhouse Store opened up at Waikele tomorrow, you’d better believe I’d have been all in, waiting in that massive line outside the store just to get in and spend my (but mostly Lynnette’s) hard-earned money. Madison (who still somehow had oodles of energy after the Pillboxes!) was a saint in the store – except for when she started to get loopy and roundhouse kicked me in the thigh – and followed Lynnette and I around like a good girl, even offering her fashion opinions. I can’t wait for the first time Mad tells me she’s going shopping with her friends and I hand her $100 and she says “But daaaaaaaaaaaad! I need to buy a top, too!” I’m sending her to live with Lynnette’s parents from ages 11-18 because they never tell her no. Incidentally, super-funny trend that started in the past month or so: the degree of Madison’s displeasure with me is directly proportional to the number of letter A’s she uses when shouting “Dad.” To wit:
If I tell her to wake up: Daaad!
If I tell her I’m watching ESPN: Daaaaaad!
If I tell her I think the Disney Store is closed for renovation: Daaaaaaaaaaaaaad!
If I tell her she has to clean her room: Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaad!