Shopocalypse Now

I’m not much of a shopper. Unless I’m with my mom or a friend, I rarely set foot in a mall if I don’t actually have something I need to buy. Shopping with David and Cameron is even more intolerable. Usually I can just bring stuff home in their size, but I really needed David to try on jeans this year because he’s had a bit of a growth spurt and they just don’t fit well until we hit on the right pair.

“Mom, can I get an Adrian Peterson jersey?”

“No, Cameron.”

I picked out a few pairs of jeans I thought might be okay and banished David to the fitting room. By this time Cameron has gone off on his own and has turned into JLo.

“Mom, can I get these shorts?”

“Cameron, those are a size 14.”

“Oh.”

David has the first pair on. They are sliding off his butt and are five inches longer than his legs. “These fit.”

“David, those are falling off of you.”

“Oh. Yeah, I guess they are.”

“Mom! Come over here! Can I get this shirt?”

It’s white. There isn’t enough bleach in the world to keep a white shirt clean on Cameron. “Isn’t there one in another, maybe darker color?”

“No, I like this one.”

“Just go see what else is over there.”

David is now wearing the second pair of jeans. They are cutting off the circulation to his abdomen and he has a severe muffin top. “These fit.”

“David, how can you even breathe in those?”

“Mom, they’re fine.”

“You’ll outgrow them in a week. Go try on the other pair.”

“Mom! Can I try these shorts on? And this shirt? Please?”

“Yes, Cameron, whatever. Go ahead.”

I go over to pick through some more jeans. My sister in Pennsylvania texts me that she thinks she just felt an earthquake. I know how she feels.

“Mom, these shorts fit perfect!”

“How much are they?”

“Only $18.00.”

“$18.00 for a pair of athletic shorts? Where did you find them, I want to see if they’re on sale.” Jesus, I’ve turned into my dad.

“Right here. I suppose I can’t get them. I really want them. I barely have any shorts.”

“They’re not really that much, they’re on sale for $6.00. You can get them.”

“What about the shirt? It’s so awesome. Red’s my favorite color.”

“I don’t know.”

“Pleeeeeeaaase?”

“Just give it to me and we’ll see.”

David’s back. “Mom, these Tony Hawk ones fit.” Wow, they do. Naturally that’s the only pair to be found in his size.

I go to the sale rack and find last season’s red Champion tee shirt for $4.20. It’s exactly like the newer version Cameron wants, except the logo is black instead of white. I quickly swap the two. “Cameron, you can get this red shirt.”

“Yay! Thank you, Mommy! Can I get one of these shirts that say homework sucks?”

“No.”

“Aww, you’re so mean. Just because it makes fun of school? Everyone wears them. Can I get these Adidas socks? They’re so cool with the stripes!”

“Cameron. Dad got me a whole huge pack of Nike socks before baseball. Like a 20 pack. You can have them when I can’t wear them anymore.”

The sad part about that is that I think David thought he was doing Cameron a big favor by offering to hand down his old dirty socks. Cameron was less than thrilled with the idea.

“No-oh! Mom, what about this cool Nike Minnesota Gophers sweatshirt? Nike’s my favorite brand. Feel how soft it is in the hood.”

“Yep, that’s soft. We don’t really need sweatshirts today, though.”

“I bet you won’t let me get the Zoo York stuff. See? Empire State Building! Can I get this other one that says BEAST? What about this Vikings tee shirt? It’s vintage. Can you buy me binoculars today? Mom, you need to get me another Shaun White shirt before school starts because they come with a sticker and I want to put it on my folder. David, let’s ride on the wheelchairs before we go out.”

This is why it’s nice that Cameron, Justin and Alex’s wardrobes are 60-75% hand-me-downs. If I had to go through this with everyone, I’d lose my mind.

© Jennifer Alys Windholz, 2011

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