Monday, April 22nd, 2013
2 years, 5 months.
While my flat tire was being replaced at WalMart on Thursday morning, I decided to let you pick out a toy car. I was willing to spend some of my blow money (that’s Dave Ramsey lingo) on you; as much as $10.
You had been saying for the past month, “I want a purple monster truck.” So I figured you’d finally get it.
As soon as we stepped up to the toy car aisle, we stood before a wall of cool Monster Jam monster trucks, with a tough-looking purple one right there in our sight. You grabbed it.
Unlike U2 in 1987, you had actually found what you were looking for.
I thought, “Well, that was easy. How do we kill another 45 minutes?”
Then you saw a black monster truck… then a red one… and a green one…
Whichever new truck you discovered every 18 seconds, it automatically became superior to the previous one.
The original purple monster truck was 4 bucks, but now you were dipping into basic 97 cent Hot Wheels. I actually wanted to spend more money on you, distracting you with “Rasta Carian” from Mater’s Tall Tales, a $9 item.
You weren’t impressed with the dreadlocked Jamaican monster truck. (Really?!)
“Okay Jack, it’s getting about time for them to call my name over the speaker and tell me my car is ready. Go ahead and decide which one you want to take home,” I explained.
My own expectations had now been properly lowered. I guess I was just confused that you didn’t want me to buy what clearly you had been talking about for weeks.
And there it was, a purple… 1983 Chevy Silverado lowrider with white and lime green flames.
That’s the one you just couldn’t let go of. So I spent 97 cents on you and you were completely happy.
I like spending money on you by buying you special gifts, but you don’t care how much money I spend on them. I mean, hey, I’m not complaining.
You just seem to like the adventure of obtaining and opening a new gift. Then you always trace that gift back to the event in which you got it.
Sure enough, you have been bragging to everyone you see about your new purple truck.
Not just any purple truck, but that silly purple 1983 Chevy Silverado lowrider that Daddy got you when his tire got a nail in it and had to be replaced… or as you say it, “Daddy, yours tire fell off?”
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