By Jody
Worsham
All rights
reserved for Christmas Past
It was time
to take the seven-year-old and the tween ager to do their annual Christmas
shopping or I guess now it would be called Christmas gifting. The difference this year is that they have
their own money as a result of some very hard working chickens and one lazy
rooster. They have mastered the income
part but haven’t quite got a handle on overhead expenses which ain’t exactly
chicken feed. Well it is but the price
of chicken feed makes for some very expensive eggs.
My job was
to be chauffer and gifting consultant as needed. When we arrived at…wait for it…Wal-Mart…they
immediately headed for the toy aisle. As
they calculated their combined income to see how much they would have left for
themselves once all others had been “gifted” I perused the array of toys.
Besides the
usual array of baby dolls, Candy Land, checkers, and bikes, there seemed to be
other toys that would have given me nightmares had Santa dropped them down my
chimney. There was a game where you
arranged realistic spongy brains into some kind of skull. There was a kit for making totally ghoulish
edible intestines, livers, and other assorted body parts guaranteed to make you
scream in sour delight. G.I. Joe was tucked in the corner of the aisle completely surrounded and overwhelmed with alien beings spouting several heads, spikes, and assorted eyes. Bey Blades, which I mistakenly called Gay Blades, are the new spinning tops. These, however, were battling tops complete with pistol launchers and glorified expensive plastic dishpans that serve as combat arenas.
scream in sour delight. G.I. Joe was tucked in the corner of the aisle completely surrounded and overwhelmed with alien beings spouting several heads, spikes, and assorted eyes. Bey Blades, which I mistakenly called Gay Blades, are the new spinning tops. These, however, were battling tops complete with pistol launchers and glorified expensive plastic dishpans that serve as combat arenas.
From the
next aisle over, I heard squeals of delight. “Here it is!” “Just like on TV”. The object of their excitement was the Doggie
Doo toy. Evidently you feed this plastic
wiener dog colored food, and then pull its leash thus “walking” it until the
inner mechanisms maneuver the food from one end of the dog to the other where
it comes out as poop. Color coded
shovels were included to scoop the color coded poop. Now these are the same two kids who will only
walk their real life dog under threat of total electronic shut down. And forget about scooping anything!
Now granted, my older children had a Baby
Alive when they were young. You could
feed the baby special baby food that came with it and over time, gravity and two size C batteries not included
would create a poopy diaper for the little mommy to clean up. I should have known this was going to be a
forerunner of the Doggie Doo toy when, as they got older, they diluted the baby
food and created life like throw-up and diarrhea.
The Doggie
Doo toy reminded them to rush to the Pet Aisle in search of a gift for Tia Mia,
also known as Miss Buffington, Kiwi, and other assorted names depending on who has
to walk her. They spent a good hour there searching for just the right toy for
her amusement and the right Christmas outfit for her to wear when somebody else
is walking her.
“What about
the people on your list? I mean the
people besides yourselves, like parents.”
“Well, you’ve
got everything at Wal-Mart already. “
Ok, that’s semi-true. “But what about sharing?”
“I
know. You can play Doggie Doo with us. You can even have the red scoop and all the
red poop.”
“That is
very thoughtful. I’ll meet you at the
check-out counter. I have to stop by the CD area for another present.”
I’m sure the children will enjoy “Barking
Jingle Bells” It’s such a canine hit
Merry Christmas
and Happy Holidays.
2 comments:
Love their enthusiasm!
Your kids area a hoot. Love the stories. Doggie Doo - YUCK!
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