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The "Bubbies" -- Cody and Jonah age 5
Christmas has me thinking about how hard it is to keep secrets in a house full of little people. It’s like trying to keep a dozen doughnuts from disappearing when I’m alone with them and suffering from PMS! It doesn’t happen! Over the years I’ve gone to great lengths trying to keep little ears and eyes in the dark and my favorite experience bears mentioning as a tribute to the ingenuity and creativity of parents everywhere as this Christmas season draws to a close.
One year when my twins were 4, I spied in a Christmas Target ad a great sale on the behemoth Dino-Mountain toy the bubbies were hoping and praying for that Christmas. They were old enough to know that whatever went into my cart, didn’t just magically disappear after we left the store; but too young to be in school or any place convenient (meaning not with ME) while I did Christmas shopping. At that point in my life, I didn’t yet have the luxury of so many older children that could watch little ones while my hubby and I gallivanted around town together. (See, there are perks of having seven kids.) So, I took them with me, racking my overtaxed brain for ideas on how to select the toy, make it to the front of the store with the huge box hidden, purchase the monstrosity and get it home and wrapped without them catching on to my Christmas scheme. (I should have asked Santa for superpowers and/or many free babysitters that year, instead I prayed.) As we headed back to the toy aisles, we passed the luggage section and I felt the magical tingle of inspiration filling my being. I’m sure it was a merciful God answering the desperate prayer of a mother of four year-old twins. I grabbed a GIANT suitcase and put it into my cart. Then when we got to the dinosaur section, with the boys distracted by T-rexes and Triceratopses, I slyly pushed the big box off the bottom shelf and around the corner to my waiting cart with my foot, heaved it up and stuffed it into the suitcase! It felt spectacularly invigorating to hatch a secret plan and have it come off without a hitch. Little did I know that my brilliant mission would be nearly thwarted by the cashier: a cranky old lady who had no business wearing the perky, red Target shirt and khakis.
When I got to the register I tried to explain to her in hushed tones why I had the suitcase; hence, why I wasn’t actually purchasing the suitcase. At first she couldn’t hear me. So I repeated myself in a stage whisper, praying the boys wouldn’t hear. When she finally figured out what I was saying, her demeanor changed to one of extreme annoyance. “You don’t want the suitcase?!” she asked incredulously. “Well no,” I replied a bit sheepishly, “and could you please ring up the Dino Mountain in a sneaky way and quickly stuff it into a non-see through bag so my boys who are now running amok in the front of the store, searching the quarter vending machines for stray skittles won’t know what I’m purchasing?” I smiled sweetly at her as her frown lines threatened a cave-in in the middle of her face. Lucky for me (or maybe her) she did do just that and I emerged from Target, triumphant!
I guess it just proves that even as our brain cells are dying a slow, painful death during the evolution of our children’s lives, we parents are forging new pathways in our brains as we employ creativity, ingenuity and yes, even sneakiness, in our quest to do the Christmas shopping! My Christmas wish for you is that your shopping is done and that you get more than 2 hours sleep tonight! It won’t come true for me, but there’s always next year.
One year when my twins were 4, I spied in a Christmas Target ad a great sale on the behemoth Dino-Mountain toy the bubbies were hoping and praying for that Christmas. They were old enough to know that whatever went into my cart, didn’t just magically disappear after we left the store; but too young to be in school or any place convenient (meaning not with ME) while I did Christmas shopping. At that point in my life, I didn’t yet have the luxury of so many older children that could watch little ones while my hubby and I gallivanted around town together. (See, there are perks of having seven kids.) So, I took them with me, racking my overtaxed brain for ideas on how to select the toy, make it to the front of the store with the huge box hidden, purchase the monstrosity and get it home and wrapped without them catching on to my Christmas scheme. (I should have asked Santa for superpowers and/or many free babysitters that year, instead I prayed.) As we headed back to the toy aisles, we passed the luggage section and I felt the magical tingle of inspiration filling my being. I’m sure it was a merciful God answering the desperate prayer of a mother of four year-old twins. I grabbed a GIANT suitcase and put it into my cart. Then when we got to the dinosaur section, with the boys distracted by T-rexes and Triceratopses, I slyly pushed the big box off the bottom shelf and around the corner to my waiting cart with my foot, heaved it up and stuffed it into the suitcase! It felt spectacularly invigorating to hatch a secret plan and have it come off without a hitch. Little did I know that my brilliant mission would be nearly thwarted by the cashier: a cranky old lady who had no business wearing the perky, red Target shirt and khakis.
When I got to the register I tried to explain to her in hushed tones why I had the suitcase; hence, why I wasn’t actually purchasing the suitcase. At first she couldn’t hear me. So I repeated myself in a stage whisper, praying the boys wouldn’t hear. When she finally figured out what I was saying, her demeanor changed to one of extreme annoyance. “You don’t want the suitcase?!” she asked incredulously. “Well no,” I replied a bit sheepishly, “and could you please ring up the Dino Mountain in a sneaky way and quickly stuff it into a non-see through bag so my boys who are now running amok in the front of the store, searching the quarter vending machines for stray skittles won’t know what I’m purchasing?” I smiled sweetly at her as her frown lines threatened a cave-in in the middle of her face. Lucky for me (or maybe her) she did do just that and I emerged from Target, triumphant!
I guess it just proves that even as our brain cells are dying a slow, painful death during the evolution of our children’s lives, we parents are forging new pathways in our brains as we employ creativity, ingenuity and yes, even sneakiness, in our quest to do the Christmas shopping! My Christmas wish for you is that your shopping is done and that you get more than 2 hours sleep tonight! It won’t come true for me, but there’s always next year.
1 comment:
Very creative! I read this with my sister as she was here with us for Christmas ... she got a kick out of the fact that you decided to use the name 'Randolph' for your other reindeer. :)
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