Black Friday or...play date

The Hero continues to participate in new social experiences, which are broadening his horizons and making him wonder what the Princess is going to drag him into next.


A few weeks ago he attended his first-ever baby shower, which was chronicled here. Over Thanksgiving weekend he was involved in another cultural pastime usually reserved for individuals of a somewhat different age group than his: a play date.


After a very pleasant Thanksgiving feast at a Certain Relative's house, and agreeing to stay in the area for a few days, the Hero firmly expressed his opinion on participating in Black Friday shopping ("No way"). My sister and I therefore dropped him off to spend some time at the home of the Certain Relatives, which includes a mother and father and two young children. The father stuck his head out the front door before we drove away and yelled, "What time are you coming to pick him up from his play date?" he said.


My sister and I, being Serious Shoppers, chafe at having any restrictions placed on our outings. "Can it be open-ended?" she asked.


"Sorry," he said. "We like to have a definite pickup time for our play dates."


We managed to skirt a definite return time by promising to bring pizza when we did come back, which met with rousing approval from the Certain Relatives.


We set off to the mall to do our small part to help boost the economy and spread Christmas cheer, which we accomplished chiefly by buying things for ourselves. Then we assuaged the guilt that was beginning to settle on us by buying things for each other. The process went pretty much like this:


One of us: Oooo, I've been looking for a nice ________ like this. But -- I guess I've already bought enough stuff for myself.


The other one of us: Hey, want me to get it for you for Christmas? 


The first one of us: Thanks!


And then the favor would be returned at the next store, with the result that Christmas is going to be pretty sweet for the two of us, although maybe not so much for everyone else on our list. They should have come shopping with us.


Along toward dinner time, when we were really just getting started shopping, the Hero texted that the play daters were hungry and wanting to know when they could reasonably expect the pizza to come. We were in the middle of an important shoe transaction, wherein my sister had asked to see a particular shoe, and the young, earnest salesman had brought out not only that pair but four others.


"It's store policy to bring a customer at least five pairs," he said, somewhat apologetically.


As she tried the shoes on, my sister's interest remained fixed on the pair she had requested, while the young, earnest salesman (Mike) was endeavoring to interest her in another pair he had brought out. This pair was considerably more expensive. Never mind that it was not comfortable on my sister's feet. Mike would take it in the back and "work with it."


It was no more comfortable after he had worked with it, and my sister declined that pair. Mike hid his disappointment well, and turned his attention toward yet another pair he had brought out. 


About at this point the text came, and my sister declared to Mike that hungry children were awaiting our arrival, their health and emotional state hanging in the balance, and she must conclude her transaction. She did not mention that most of the "hungry children" were rather over 40. Mike, for whom it appeared challenging to switch gears unexpectedly but who apparently understood hungry children, made a valiant effort to wrap things up quickly.


After we had picked up the pizza and satisfied the hungry children of all ages, I asked the Hero how the play date had gone.


"Great," he said. "We went bowling" (he was terrible, he said), "and decorated the tree, and watched a James Bond marathon. Some people took a nap" (but not him, he said). 


"Well," I said, nodding at my purchases, "I'm glad you had a good time, 'cuz I think we're gonna have to go back to the mall tomorrow...."