The first time was
Saturday at the grocery store. I had
left My Sweet Baboo in the cat food aisle and headed off in another direction,
and stopped short when I saw a man start to toss something across a low display
case to his wife, who was on the other side with their cart. He was gesturing with his hands, making a tossing
motion, and she was gesturing right back at him, clearly indicating with both
her facial expression and her hands that she wanted no part of his pitch and
catch game. He kept trying, she kept
saying no, and eventually he gave in and walked over to her, handed her the
item, and went off to get something else.
I stood there giggling,
and the woman looked at me as if I was nuts; after all, she
clearly communicated that she thought her husband had been acting like a child. I apologized to her
for laughing and told her it could be worse: when I was a kid, my Dad would roll cat food cans, paper towels, and
whatever else he could get moving down the aisle, and my job was to scoop
everything up and put it in the cart. Sometimes I missed; things would slide
by, and Dad and I would laugh, go pick up the cans, and move on to the next
aisle. I thanked her for reminding me of
that fun; she smiled and walked away, and secretly I wished her husband would
try my Dad’s favorite trick – tossing something across the top of the shelves,
from one aisle to another! He didn’t
try it often, but it was fun when he did.
(Note that we lived in a small town, with a small family-owned grocery
store; I don’t think our behavior would be as well
received in a larger store like Wegmans.)
Today it was snickerdoodles.
One of my co-workers stopped by this afternoon
with a container full of them. They were my Dad’s favorite cookies, mostly because
every year at Christmas his sister would make some for him. She’d pack them in a coffee can, put on a
pretty bow, and put them under the tree. At some point, we kids would sneak the cookies out from under the tree (preferably
while everyone was in the room), and hide them. Even though everyone knew the drill, it was still fun to go through the
process, coming up with more creative ways to steal, hide and then rediscover
the cookies. One year my aunt made two
containers, one for stealing, and one which she triumphantly handed
to my Dad, a huge ‘so there, kids!’ moment. In the silliness that followed, my brother
stole the second batch and hid that one too. Another year, we actually left the cookies behind; I remember there was much feigned indignance for a couple of days after Christmas, which ended when the cookies were safely delivered.
Two wonderful memories, completely unexpected, and made that much
more enjoyable as a result. Thanks Dad,
for the distractions.
