Better Late

So Santa Claus was a little late at our house this year. Martin Luther King Day late. Not having time before the holiday to shop, procrastionation caused me to order my boys the custom skate boards from the catalog that they have been drooling over all year long, instead of going to the mall myself. I opted for the garenteed delivery for Christmas by paying double the price of the already expensive boards. I do not know who ordered the blizzards that swept across our country causing the boards to remain in some wharehouse on the east coast during the holiday.

Christmas morning my boys raced down to the fireplace to find a letter with the pictures of their boards that read, "You have been very good this year but the eleves have not. They screwed up painting your boards. I will be back, see you soon. Love Santa."

The kids had recieved enough bounty that they did not even miss one less gift from Santa. The skate board supplier unbeknown to us, cancilled my order when unable to deliver them by the twenty forth of December. All of us forgot about them. Until Martin Luther King Day.

We had Monday off and were in desperate need of clothes so off the the much dreaded mall we go. I hate malls and I hate shopping. My oldest son, K1 shares this distain. For K2, everywere is a party and an adventure. It was a squirly bunch of monkays that entered that shopping meca.

First store we happen apon is a new boarding store. Into the urban trashy chic store we go. The place is a mess. Looked like any teenagers room. Clothes are in sloppy piles everywere. Bare lighing and raw concrete floors. Kenny Rodgers is blaring over the sound system. As my eyes bug out at hearing the lyrics to "The Gambler", at an encredibly high volume, I scan the place for help. The three young male employees are standing in a group in the middle of the store, too ingrossed in their own conversation to even aknoledge us. As I approch, I catch part of the conversation. "Yeah, her, she's like, well.", punk one says. "I so know, tight but, dude." They look my direction in what I take to be somewhat hostile that I dare interupt this deep exchange. "Want something?", punk with the highlighted hair nicer than mine asks. "My son needs to try these on", I answer gesturing to the jeans in our arms. As we are waiting for him to unlock the changing room door, I have to ask him about the music choice in there." "Oh yeah, this is Kenny Rodgers. We play him just to scare people and put them on edge. We laugh like crazy when the seventy year old grannies come in here with their grand kids and can sign along word for word." (Ok you only have to hear that song once to be able to sing it word for word.) K1 is already in his own personal happy spot and is ignoreing us and pretending his is not part of this embassasment. K2 has wormed his way into the center of a circular cloths rack waiting to jump out and startle someone. After we have made our clothing slection we spot the counter were they actually sell skate boards. As we walk by, the boys both pick out their favortive board. Realizing we are serious customers by the tower of hoddies and jeans we are carring on of the punks as move on to politly ask if we need any futher assistance. "No", K2 answers glibly, "our boards are being delivered." Dude, they didn't forget.

Our next stop is the food court. As they are sitting, inhaling french fires, I tell my kids, "Stay here and finnish your food, I need to go try on bras.", knowing they would not want to follow me into a Victorias Secrets for that, I buy myself some time.

Meanwhile back at the board store, I am paying for the boards they had selected. "Thirty minets and you can come back and pick them up", young punk dude tells me. "Thank you, Santa screwed up at our house this year."

On our way out of the mall I fein ignorance and walking back into the same store as if I had never steped inside before. "But Mom", come the protests, "we have already been in this store already." "Are you sure?" I bluff, I don't think so", I answer from the middle of the store. "Hey, you kids", young man yells, "Some white haired dude in a red suit stopped in here and dropped these off for you", he says pointing to the counter were their new freshly assembled boards lie waiting for them. The boys grins were as big as the boards they were carrying out under their arms proudly as we left the store.

"You gotta know when to hold them, know when to throw them, know when to walk away, know when to run..."

Thank you punk dudes, that was like, yeah.