Free Ice Cream

Today William and I sold Boy Scout Fair Coupon Books at the Kroger at Echo Lane and I-10. For a couple of hours in the frigid afternoon air, we greeted a steady flow of shoppers from all walks of life.  One by one we asked them if they would be interested in buying a coupon book to support the Boy Scouts of America.  The coupon book is actually a good deal--for $10 you get $400 worth of coupons to Kroger, Luby’s, McDonalds, James Coney Island, and several other Houston businesses.  The three Scouts working this particular Kroger were quite anxious to tell the passersby that the coupon for free Blue Bell ice cream could be used immediately!

At some point during our afternoon sales shift from 2:00 to 4:00, we had a nice woman (though she bordered on obnoxious) donate $50 to William!  She said she wasn't from Houston, but wanted to help the Boy Scouts.  As she rambled incessantly about Boy Scouts, Kansas, and fast food, we thanked her for her generosity.

William was a coupon-book-selling machine.  It didn’t matter who walked into the store--moms, dads, grandparents, college students, the security guard, the cashier on her smoke break...even the acne-faced teenager wearing his blue Kroger vest gathering the shopping carts from the parking lot--everyone was given an opportunity to buy $400 worth of coupons for $10!  And it didn’t matter if William asked the person when they walked into the store...he asked them again when they walked out--just in case they wanted to buy a second coupon book!

William approached one particular older woman who was wearing a faded and tattered sweatsuit.  A lace on her once-white shoes was broken.  It appeared her green and orange wool socks had been in the washing machine many times.
"Excuse me?” William’s little voice called out her.  “Would you like to support the Boy Scouts by buying a coupon book for $10?  It has free ice cream!”
Her apologetic eyes met mine.  I wanted to look away.  I didn’t.  I expected more of what I’d heard many times earlier, ‘Not right now.’
I even had my standard response ready, ‘That’s OK, have a great day!’
In a voice spoken soft enough for only me to hear, she said, “I’m sorry; I cannot afford $10.”
I watched her as she dug through her well-aged handbag.  Seconds later, her age-spotted hand emerged from the bag clinching a one-dollar bill and various scraps of paper.
“Do you accept donations?  Would it be all right if I donated a dollar?”
As I took the coupon book from William and slipped it into one of the plastic Kroger bags in her cart, I said, “That’s very kind of you, but you keep that dollar.  And you keep this coupon book too.”
My hand had not even released the coupon book before tears were visible on her pale cheeks.  The appreciative smile on her face said everything her voice could not.  As she looked down at William, he smiled and said, “There’s a coupon for free ice cream in there too!”

You're not the boss of me!

The first words out of William's mouth most Saturday and Sunday mornings are similar to the following, "Daddy, can I play the Wii?"

William is five. He loves the Wii. Emily, seven, also loves the Wii, but she doesn't have the same level of obsession with the Wii as her younger brother.

More frequently than not, playing the Wii becomes a problem. And typically the problem is one of two things...

For the first 15 minutes or so after the Wii is powered up, Emily and William work as a team while playing Lego Star Wars. At some point a decision has to be made about what door to open or who gets to be what Star Wars character. Then it happens--yelling, screaming, stomping... "YOU'RE NOT THE BOSS OF ME!!!" William is in tears and Emily decides she doesn't want to play anymore anyway!

The other "thing" that happens is the result of too much Wii. If William plays the Wii for too long, turning the Wii off typically results in a meltdown. William cries and cries and cries...and between the tears he reminds me that he never gets to play the Wii, and "IT'S NOT FAIR!!!"

Perhaps a third "thing" is my inability to manage Wii time, but clearly that subject would require more self assessment than I'm willing to dedicate to it at this particular moment...

Santa needs his ass kicked for putting the Wii under the tree in the first place. Fat bastard.

So while having dinner at IHOP tonight (yeah, don't even ask...you can think it, just don't ask it...), William says, "Daddy, can we play the Wii tomorrow?"

Seriously? Are you f'ing kidding me?

Thoroughly annoyed, I try to use some parenting skills that don't involve the words, "I'm going to throw that Wii in the trash!"

Finally, I got it!

"William..." I say, "I think you play too much Wii; that seems to be all you want to do. What's something you could do tomorrow besides playing the Wii?"

William looked at me intently...he gave the matter serious thought for a good 15 seconds...carefully he chose his words before proclaiming, "I know, Daddy!...I could watch TV!"

Shit.

Piss Away $20.

Think back to when you were a kid. What was the most exciting part about going to the dentist...assuming there is an “exciting part” lodged in your memory? Ask me, and I will tell you it was getting the new toothbrush!

Today my kids went to the dentist.

The toothbrushes they received were a lot nicer than ones I got when I was a little kid. The toothbrushes I got were emblazoned with the dentist’s name and logo, and aside from being new, that was about it.

My son’s new toothbrush was perfectly sized for a four-year-old hand. The dentist’s name and logo had been replaced with a picture of a boy kicking a soccer ball. The affinity my son had for the toothbrush could not be contained; he had to show it to me immediately!

Clearly my “tinkling” (as my daughter calls it) into the potty made no difference in my ability to look at his new toothbrush as my son proudly held it up for my inspection.

Green. I saw that it was a green toothbrush…right before it fell into the toilet.  The same toilet I was "tinkling" in (the picture of the boy kicking the soccer ball was a detail I would later discover…).

He tried to be strong, “That’s OK, Daddy… it’s OK.” But the tears were coming too fast, and the uncontrollable crying quickly ensued.

Well, it seemed to me the issue could be solved by putting the toothbrush in the dishwasher. I even mentioned to my wife this was the obvious solution. Little did I know this was not acceptable. And I was able to figure this out without the word “no” actually being spoken. Seems “No!” can be conveyed with a certain look…

Five minutes later, my son and I were in Walgreens looking at new toothbrushes. “I like this one, Daddy.” 'This one' happened to be an electric Wall-e toothbrush.

So now I had another problem (well, the green toothbrush was still in the toilet, but in addition to that)… Clearly I could not go home with a new electric toothbrush for my son and nothing for my daughter. She did tell me she wanted a package of Starburst candy as my son and I were heading out the door. I thought I could get a three-dollar toothbrush and a packet of Starburst and all would be good…right.

I wasn’t about to tell my son he couldn’t have the Wall-e toothbrush…I mean, come on…his green toothbrush was floating in the toilet.
“OK William, that’s a good one.”

I placed the Wall-e electric toothbrush...and the Ariel Disney character electric toothbrush...and the two packages of Starburst  candy on the counter.
“$20?” “Really?”
“Credit or debit?”

During the ride home, it never entered my head that electric toothbrushes for a four- and six-year old might not be appropriate. It turns out “Why do they need to when they have electric toothbrushes?” is not the appropriate response to “How are they going to learn to brush their teeth with a regular toothbrush now that you bought these?”

Ugh!

And the green toothbrush was still floating in piss.

Damn it.

I figured since it wasn’t a good idea to put the toothbrush in the dishwasher, it probably wasn’t a good idea to use the kitchen tongs to retrieve the toothbrush from the toilet...I did think about it though...I thought it better not to even ask.

So it turns out the little bags used to clean up after my dog work equally well for removing toothbrushes from the toilet. The irony.