Me, Mother's Day & Victoria's Secret (Part TWO)

Aloha,

I don’t post Tuesdays – but something happened J Friday.

(This is PART TWO of a daily series ending Thursday - at the latest J)

Part One is here.

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I switched on GPS, and double checked the address via Droid.

I was not getting lost on this panty raid.

Driving away, a small, plastic bag blew off the side of the windscreen.

Man, I hate litterers.

Freeway traffic was light, and I soon hit the final road leading to Victoria’s Secret.

Not knowing if it was on the left or right, I did as many males would – I cast away the physical address and looked for the physical attributes.

There must be a window-sized lingerie model somewhere around here… and there she is… On the left!

Like a lacy beacon in a busty, er busy street, the store entrance was at street level, which meant I wouldn’t have to waste time traversing any strange malls.

Oh, happy days, this is easy.

“We did it, boys, we did it,” I shouted to the kids, (as if we’d travelled nonstop from Boston to Los Angeles.)

“Papa, can I have the snack bag, please,” said No. 1 Son.

“Let me just find parking.”

I made the next left. It was all loading and unloading only.

OK.

Then I saw a parking garage offering two options: the flat $9 rate, or $2 per thirty minutes.

 “Boys… look sharp… if we rush, we can get there, and be back here in thirty minutes, right?”

“Papa, can I have the snack bag, please?”

“Sure, sure, let me just park.”

I told the lady we were here for the $2 special. She smiled and warned not to park in levels one to four, “‘cos you’ll get a ticket.”

No worries.

It’s 10 a.m. on a Friday, there’ll be spots on level five. Surely.

At level three, we pass ROSS, (a clothing store.) Momentarily, I muse and wonder if they sell Victoria’s Secrets panties. They might be cheaper, too??

But then you won’t get the little pink bag thing…

Right, right.

By the time we reached level eight, the older boys were playing “what’s the next number!” game, and I was getting dizzy.

We parked (on eight) and Operation Buy Panties was a GO!

Stroller out – wheels locked.   CHECK.

No. 3 Son in car seat – attached to stroller.   CHECK

No. 2 Son unbuckled and removed from van. Placed next to left hip. CHECK.

Reach in cramped space for No. 1 Son’s shoes (he always removes them.)   CHECK.

Continue searching for shoes like I’m bobbing for apples.   OH, Check.

A just-before-leaving-the-house memory hits me with the force of a Wonderbra.

“Don’t forget his blue shoes…”

 “Son... Where. Are. Your. Shoes?”

“In the new house. Papa. Can I have the snack bag, please?”

“Oh, yeah, Sure. Here, take this.”

Let me think, let me think.

OK, No. 1 Son can’t walk with no shoes…oh my gosh, he’ll cut himself… get an infection, and we’ll have to take him to the ER – probably on Mother’s Day. No, no, no, no.

But what to do?

Go home?

Give in – let the panties win?

What would I tell my wife?

I looked at the kids… No. 1 Son was happy with his snack bag, No. 2 was playing with the front tire and waiting for further orders, while No. 3 son chilled out atop the stroller.

Atop the stroller.

Kids can sit on those.

Kids without shoes.

I had a great idea….

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PART THREE posts tomorrow, Wednesday…