Saturday, August 24th, 2013
2 years, 9 months.
I suppose there’s a good chance that this weekend will be remembered in American pop culture history as when people debated online about how perfect or horrible Ben Affleck will be as the new Batman.
As for us, I will remember it as the weekend I felt so proud to buy you a $4 police and ambulance set from T.J. Maxx.
It was the “good little boy in T.J. Maxx” tax that earned you this gift.
Mommy and I needed to buy some appropriate running clothes for our half marathon coming up in April.
Honestly, you behaved very well. I was quite impressed. It was a non-event.
I didn’t have to do any of my recently acquired deep-breathing ad-lib yoga exercises. I didn’t have to find my place of serenity.
You let Mommy and I shop for over an hour, as we spent hardly anything on the few items we needed, in peace.
And just look at your face in the picture as you were getting ready for the car ride home.
I’ve been noticing on the car rides to and from school every day, that it seems you’ve developed a new fascination with ambulances and police cars.
“They’re going to help that crash!” you exclaim every time you hear an emergency vehicle pass nearby.
I’m actually pretty impressed by your anglicized pronunciation of the sirens.
Once we got home, you forgot all about wanting to watch Mater’s Tall Tales on Netflix, instead choosing to go upstairs with me and try out your new ambulance and police car, with their corresponding action figures.
Though I did go through the trouble to shoot a quick video, what really cracked me up was seeing how you cared for the crash victims, which were in a pink Micro Machine race car from when I was a kid:
Instead of pretending to put the invisible passengers into the back of the ambulance, you decided just to try to put the whole car in.
It didn’t quite fit, but I do appreciate your concept of helping the entire car and all its passengers inside the ambulance.
After all, why not just fix the car at the same hospital that the crash victims are being treated?
And it’s those kinds of memories that make paying the ”good little boy in T.J. Maxx” tax totally worth it.
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