So I was at the mecca of good manners and even better parenting today.
It starts with a Wal- and ends with a Mart. Ever been?
As most Wal-Mart shoppers do, I will qualify the info that I went to that place with the statement that I rarely go there, and only when I have to.
Why I was there is not important.
What is important is the fact that I could not buy paper Christmas plates.
In the store that calls itself "America's Gift Headquarters" I could not find paper Christmas plates. Nor cups. Nor napkins.
After roaming the store way too many times, including the paper goods aisle, the party aisle, and the Christmas aisles, I asked an "associate" where I might find some paper Christmas plates.
I explained that I had been roaming this gigantic store for a good long time, and while I found plenty of "stocking stuffers", more puppy and kitten calendars than anyone could possibly enjoy, and even more ugly Christmas sweaters, what I did NOT find were paper Christmas plates.
I explained that I need paper Christmas plates. And cups. And napkins. Since I don't have a kitchen and can't cook anything, I am in charge of the paper products for the December Teacher/Staff Birthday Celebration.
And guess what the associate explained to me.
Wal-Mart doesn't sell paper Christmas plates. They will. They just aren't in yet.
Are you telling me that a store that has been decorated for Christmas, playing Christmas songs, sending out Christmas ads, and basically shoving Christmas down our throats since October 15 didn't think far enough ahead to order paper Christmas plates?!?!?!?!?!?
Yes. That's exactly what she's telling me.
For the love...
And then, to make me actually look around for a camera, I got to do the grossest thing I have ever done for one of my children. No one, especially a certain surly teenager, can ever again say that I don't do anything for her.
I went to the dentist's office for a lovely new crown. (Yes, I'm royalty now. You need to curtsy whenever you see me.)
As I was leaving, Dear DDS said, "Don't leave without Buttercup's teeth!"
Me: "Come again?"
Buttercup had called the dentist to request some pulled teeth. She and her friend are doing a science fair project on how different liquids affect teeth, and she had called the dentist to request some teeth. And our dentist, being the lovely man that he is, got some from the oral surgeon for her.
I got to be the tooth mule.
As he handed the teeth to me he said, "They have been completely sterilized. Also, teeth aren't pulled for no reason. They aren't perfect."
Well, you can say that again. And are you telling me you couldn't have wrapped them in something a little less see-through?
Two things were reinforced for me in this little experience.
1. I am even more baffled that anyone would choose to be a dentist.
2. I hate science fairs. Always have. Always will.
I learned something new, too.
When one's teeth are pulled, those teeth could end up just about anywhere.
My day got much better, though, when I came home from these two upsetting errands to find burly men hanging cabinets in my new kitchen.
I was happy, happy, happy until I realized that I will probably walk into that beautiful new kitchen some day soon to find that Buttercup has those nasty teeth soaking in some clear liquids on the new island.
I really, really hate science fairs.
Have a lovely day!