So yesterday Seth and I thought it would be “fun” to have a little lunch date in the food court at the mall. He needed a new pair of jeans so we figured we’d hop on in to get some of those and dig into some Chic-fil-a…or better yet, a huge slice of pizza that only a food court can give you.
What kind of drugs were we ON??
After fighting through crazed moms and the morons who had just started their Christmas shopping (I say moron only in Christian love), we made it back out to the car where I attempted to take several deep breaths and prayed a margarita machine would magically appear under my seat.
And we didn’t even get lunch.
We should’ve been tipped off by the complete and utter lack of parking spaces.
But hey, at least Seth got jeans.
And ladies, maybe it is just me…but I have NEVER in my life seen someone so negative about trying on clothes. You think it’d just be easy enough to throw on a pair, do some turns in the mirror, and give ‘em a yea or nay.
Nope. “Trying on jeans” consisted of tucking shirts in, fastening the belt, putting shoes back on, hey, let’s see how they look with my coat, and more. And that was only after pair #1. Then I get to hear about how only a certain “breed” of male would EVER buy the low-rise boot cut jeans at GAP and why are they all ripped and tight in places where they shouldn’t be?!
Folks, I think we are officially grandparents. Or at least parents without real children yet.
This is why it will just be easier for our kids to live in windsuits or other stretchy attire. Because after yesterday…after hearing the mother screaming at her child in the dressing room…and hearing the child laugh hysterically right back at her…and not wanting to find out what the child had in for him later that day at home…I don’t plan on ever going back to the mall again.