hoodwinked

Over the years I have accrued a tool bag full of arguments, excuses, foot-dragging routines and false sicknesses to utilize against my wife’s use of the phrase “let’s go shopping”. She usually tries to goad me into visiting that unpleasant, overcrowded, dry-mouthed-soccer-mom-and-daughter-disguised-as-fashion-whores infested dogpile more popularly referred to as the mall with promises of pit stops to my favorite electronic stores. Unfortunately for me the outcome is always the same: while anna frequents each and every single different women’s clothing boutique [which I am convinced all carry the exact same articles of clothing save for a slight difference in shade, i.e. Banana Republic carries an elegant camisole in chartreuse, while NY & Co. carries a punky camisole in light green, a conspiratorial system designed specifically to irritate husbands, boyfriends and children nationwide], I sit outside on some bench, or low wall, or step, or masonry-paved floor anxiously waiting and wishing [for the thousandth time] that I had a some sort of portable gaming device, or book, or magazine, or knife to cut my throat. And this past weekend, she did it to me again, only this time I had company.

Ben has already told me of the numerous times he’s endured that routine with his mother on his own, but this past weekend we got to share the experience together. Mommy tricked poor, slow daddy once again [truly a cruel act in my opinion, considering dad’s gullible love and blind trust in his wife] and promised that we were just going to go to a furniture store to look at some coffee tables and then later, if I was really good, just maybe we could go to the electronics store to look at DVD players too. And it started out just like that, but when the furniture store was nowhere to be found, oh my, would you look it that, the mall is just right there around the corner, maybe we could just stop in to let Ben stretch his legs and get something to drink or something? I promise we don’t have to go into any clothes stores. Hrmph!

And so the loitering began. Mom took a “quick look” into a maternity clothing store and was scheduled to meet the two of us across the corridor in one of the electronics stores “in just a minute”. Twenty minutes later, and two electronic store notches on our belt, The Ben and I wandered over to the walkway in front of mom’s store to appraise the scenery. The time and silence grew endlessly with the passing of each mother into the store then back out again while our mother still lingered inside.

“You know, Ben, when you’re old enough, you can choose not to do this anymore.”

Drooling, Ben labored to turn his head up towards me, “What’s that?”

“You know – this. Walking, waiting, thirsting stimulation. . . Shopping.”

“But - I don’t get it.” He went to grab his toes. Falling short, he settled to slobber all over my forearm.

“Shopping, Ben, shopping.” I wiped my arm with a burp-cloth. “Mall-walking. Trying on clothes. Fighting crowds. All of it - you don’t have to do this. Just because your father is too weak to stop it, doesn’t mean that you have to suffer the same condition.”

Ben almost wriggled right out of my arms. “Are you shitting me? You mean this isn’t like breathing, or eating? Are you saying that this isn’t required? This isn’t part of everyday life?”

I was confounded by his surprise. “Ben, how much time do you spend here with your mother?”

“I don’t know, like, two or three visits a week. Kinda of on a schedule, you know?”

It was funny actually. There indeed was a nugget of intellectual ability I can still say I held the advantage over my four-month-old son! “Ben, Ben, Ben. Even I, as hopelessly whipped as I must admit I am, don’t go shopping with your mother that often. You may be too young to do so – hell, you probably don’t even have adequate physical control over your limbs just yet – but eventually you’re going to have to learn to put your foot down about visiting the mall.”

“But, I mean, I cry, and I whimper and squirm. Doesn’t she notice that stuff?”

“You’ll have to try harder.”

“Dad, I even stay up late at night and wake up real early when I hear of her plans to go shopping just so I can be cranky while we're there .”

“What?!” The light was slowly creeping into my head. “You do that on purpose?! Benjamin Phillip Bonick!”

I can see that he was startled by my apparent lack of prior understanding. “Dad, I told you a long time ago that I purposely try to wake up at night because I love spending time with you and mom. Have you forgotten? I thought it was all okay?”

“Damn, Ben. I mean, yeah, it’s cute and all, but you need sleep, dude. We love spending time with you too. But, that time isn’t nearly as pleasant, if you haven’t noticed, when we’re sleep-deprived.”

I had to admit, his plan to deter his mother’s shopping trips was truly inspired for an infant. It was something that would make it’s way into my own tool bag soon enough. But we were getting off subject.

“Let’s just forget you said any of that, and hopefully your mother will remain unaware. You need to sleep, Benjamin, and that’s final. There will be plenty of time to play when you wake up.” He nodded. “Now, listen to me. You’re on the right track. If your mother keeps finding you in a foul mood every time she takes you to the mall, eventually she’ll learn to scale down the time you spend there. Maybe you can save up your poopy diapers for when she’s trying on new pants, or start spitting up whenever she takes you into American Eagle. You have to condition her, Ben, it’s the only way.”

I could see Anna through the store windows finishing up at the cash register and, picking up her bag of new clothes, make her way to the door.

“Dad, are you saying that I can control mommy’s actions and get her to do whatever I want to do?”

Knowing full well that I never could, and that his mother had actually mastered that art with me, I replied, “No, Ben. When you’re ready, you won’t have to.”

At that we were rejoined by Anna, who, so happy to have found her treasure, rewarded The Ben and I with a trip to Hooters. Yes, his first ever trip to that glorious watering hole. We enjoyed their delicious chicken wings then took our son home for his evening bath, and laid him to rest with plenty to ponder. And I think it is no coincidence that he has slept between 8 and 11 hours each night since or conversation in the mall four days ago.