Yesterday I went on a date with my girl and had a blast. First we went to Long John Silvers for some good food. She chose the table. It was one of the booths in the side room, and she seemed pleased that after we’d been there a few moments the only other people in the room left, leaving us with the entire room to ourselves.
Our next stop was Wal-Mart. As we passed through the automatic entrance doors, she rushed toward one of those shopping carts that has two seats at the back for toddlers. “I get to choose the cart,” she grinned. My heart sank, but of course I acted like that was perfectly OK and off we went. “I want the candy aisle first,” she informed me. When we arrived at aisle 6, I recommended she get out of the cart and actually walk the aisle so she could see the dainties close up. Without too much hesitation she picked up a container of “Gourmet Fruit Slices.” The price? $4.00. I tried to convince her that this was by no means the best bang for her buck, but she insisted. I told her it was OK as long as she realized it would come out of her Christmas money from some friends. She didn’t care where the money came from.
Next stop was the toy department. “We need the boys’ aisle,” she remarked. Our mission was to buy something to replace the remote control four-wheeler she got for Christmas but had to be returned because it didn’t work. She picked up a small remote control car and said that was what she wanted. It was OK with me because it was on a half price sale. But as we inched along the aisle, other things began to engage her attention until she came to a much larger blue remote control car which she decided was much better than the one she had in her hand. And even though it was more expensive than the first one, I didn’t really worry too much because it, too, was on a half price sale.