I never thought I’d live to see it, but Tax Deduction No. 2 turned 3 on Monday.
I arrived at TD 2’s preschool a few minutes early, so I peeped around the door to see how she acted away from her parents. To my amazement, as other parents showed up to pick up their kids, TD 2 picked up each kid’s book sack and handed it to the corresponding parent.
At home if we hand her a few pairs of socks and ask her to put them in her room, they end up in our mailbox.
That she has the wherewithal to memorize the face of each child’s parent and their book sack tells me she’s ramrodding us on the whole sock deal — although it was funny watching our mailman pretend to like the size 3 pink butterfly socks he thinks we gave him for Christmas.
When we ask her a question at home, TD 2 usually responds in a series of clicks and clacks — sometimes tapping out a message with a stick upside down on the dining room table. Today at school I saw her explain to a classmate why it’s better to get any and all felonies out of your system before turning 16.
Being that it was the kid’s “berfday,” I stopped at the Dollar Store to procure her one of them helium-filled aluminum foil balloons. I let the girl of honor pick the one she wanted, and as I’m sure I don’t have to tell you she got into an altercation with the balloon within seconds.
I broke up the fight by holding up a copy of the latest Guns 'N Roses album that was sitting on a nearby shelf. Just looking at the album made TD 2 cover her ears in fright, thus freeing the balloon to take its rightful place on the store ceiling.
I could have held up a James Blunt CD, but I didn’t want the poor girl to be sick on her birthday.
There was only one cashier on duty, but mercifully the store was bereft of customers. In fact, the only other customers in the place were shopping for a kid’s birthday as well — and they were in front of me in line at the check-out counter. The old me would’ve immediately started dreading whatever chunk of check-out hell was about to come my way, but over the last few months I’ve had good experiences at cash registers.
Recently at Aldi, an older gentleman who had enough groceries in his cart to feed a Kardashian’s ego for a week saw me standing behind him with one lowly pineapple and waved me ahead of him. To pay this act of kindness forward, I walked up to an elderly lady and asked if she’d like me to carry her groceries for her.
Apparently the poor woman’s hearing aid was on the fritz, but her canister of Frontiersman Bear Attack pepper spray was firing on all cylinders. After explaining to the woman and the responding officer and EMS personnel that I was just trying to help with her groceries, the remorseful woman apologized and gave me a piece of Werther’s candy. Nothing says “I’m sorry” like a piece of caramel-flavored granite.
Back to my current check-out line situation … the people in front of us were apparently buying items for a kid’s birthday party as well. These people had five of those helium-filled aluminum foil balloons, a 3-liter jug of carbonated punch imported (I’m guessing) from Bogota, and some party hats. Also in their cart were five large glass items that were either giant candle holders or brandy snifters.
I once drank some ginger ale from a brandy snifter and being inexperienced with that type of delivery vessel accidentally inhaled two nostrils worth of Canada Dry. I covered the faux pas gracefully, but the resulting sneeze did result in chunks of Gouda and Conran Christmas crackers being embedded permanently in a nearby curtain.
I’ll give the Dollar Store employee credit for thoroughness, because she meticulously wrapped each piece of glass in old newspapers as if it were chunks of the Maltese Falcon. I’ve seen newborns handled with less care than these pieces of $1 retail glass, of which I have no problem. The problem came when the total due was $38.14 and the customer decided to pay in $1 bills.
In the middle of counting the stack of $1 bills for the third time, the customer looked at me as I gnawed on the edge of my shopping cart as if I was somehow annoying her.
“I’m sorry, OK, I just got paid and I have a lot of ones,” she said. “That mean look on your face won’t get me to count any faster.”
“I’d hoped that those three years you spent in fourth grade would have handled that,” I said. “I’ve always wondered: Does an employee of the strip club re-coat the pole with Pam at the beginning of each shift or do the dancers have to do it themselves?”
Eventually the cashier is handed the stack of ones and determines she needs 14 cents more from the customer.
“I think I have 14 cents,” said the customer who then began to give herself a full-body cavity search that would shame a Tijuana border agent. After four minutes, all she found on her person was a pair of salad tongs and a deer tick. She then handed the cashier another $1 bill to cover the 14 cents. Of course the cashier then discovered she was out of change and we had to stand there until an armored truck from Fort Knox showed up with a stack of dimes, but at least we got our balloon.
Tonight we’ll temporarily lift the fruit/vegetable policy and treat TD 2 to a feast of macaroni and cheese with chicken tenders, topped off with a birthday cake depicting her hero, defense attorney Johnnie Cochran. Between the presents, the carbs and the sugar, we’ll be lucky if we don’t end up in the holding cell.
Jon Dawson’s columns appear every Tuesday and Thursday in The Free Press. Contact Jon at 252-559-1092 or jon.dawson@kinston.com. Purchase books, music and dollar store pregnancy tests at jondawson.com.