Shhhh! Don’t tell Edward, but today I managed to score TWO Webkinz for his birthday. I had all but given up on acquiring any since they are, apparently, the hottest of the hot new things, a la Beanie Babies in their day. In the past couple of weeks, I’d scouted out all the local shops, only to come away empty-handed. And why, you ask, did I not turn to the world wide web? Ah. I did. Alas, I did not feel like paying the extra 200% being charged by the web retailers in response to the “scoop up and resell on eBay” phenomenon.
The two I purchased are the polar bear and the (ug) chihuahua. I hope Eddie likes them. He wants the monkey, but I had to take what I could get.
And as an extra bonus, let me tell you how my quest for Webkinz almost lost me my personal freedom, or at least temporary custody of the kids.
Davey had an eye doc appointment across the street from the strip mall housing one of the above-mentioned toy stores, so I decided to cruise by. When I saw that the window display was free of “No Webkinz” signs, unlike last week, I figured it was worth a shot. I pulled into a spot at the head of the row, steps away from and in full view of the store. As I was pulling the double-stroller out of the back of the van, I paused.
See, I had the three younger kids with me - Davey, and the twins, Jules and Mae. To get us all out of the car and into a store is a huge effort. I have to confine the toddler girls to the stroller for their own safety (and the safety of the mechant’s goods). Davey, of course, can walk. But here’s where his non-typical development comes into play. When the mood strikes him, say, in the middle of a parking lot, he’ll just plop down and start inspecting the pavement. He doesn’t really grasp the danger. And if (not in a parking lot, but in a store or other safe place) we tell him he needs to get up and follow us or we’re leaving, and then we walk away, he does not care. Not at all. He’ll look up and watch us go, then resume his fascinating commune with the floor. So, when he walks and pushes the stroller with me, we’re golden. But when he wants to stop or sit down and my encouragement fails to convince him that upright is the way to go, my only choice is to carry him. And push the double (read, awkward) stroller. And attempt to do whatever else I need to do - open the door, get out my credit card - with my one free hand while balancing a forty-four pound four-year old on my (thankfully) ample hip. This is just the way it is for us.
I’m telling you this so you’ll understand why, as I reached for the stroller, I looked over my shoulder at the store and thought, weeeelll, I should just find out if they even have those suckers before I unload everyone. Seven seconds to the door, a two second peek without ever taking my hand off the door, do I spy a fuzzy, Webkinzy thing?, and a four second sprint back to the van.
Except.
I lock the van and am halfway to the store when I see it. The police cruiser. Holy fuzz. Now what? For a brief, paranoid second I’m actually convinced that the woman sitting in the car two spaces down from me saw my kids and called the cops who then teleported over, car and all. I look at the cop and he raises his hand and makes a gesture. It’s odd, just his forefinger, moving left to right. Is he waving me across? Is he scolding me? He knows. He knows! I am confused, my instinct to flee back to the van wrestling with my determination to get just the briefest of glimpses into that toy store and I am close, oh so close, and then my logical brain, what little I have left, jumps in the fray and scolds me for even entertaining the idea that Officer Fuzz has any clue what I’m up to.
I do not even nod. My face betrays nothing. I have learned (the hard way) that the only acceptable expression to present to a law officer is one of blank and obsequeous compliance. I continue across, in front of the patrol car, and he moves along. In a flash, I whip open the door, lean in, see the Webkinz (yes!), and turn back. As I reach the van, I see the patrol car glide to a stop at the end of my row, parallel to the cars and almost out of view.
Crap, crap, crap. Now I can’t get the kids out of the car. He’s watching me. It’s what he’s waiting for.
I do what I have to. I get in the car and drive a big loop to the other side of the parking lot and nestle into a space among the grocery store patrons. Then I unload the kids and we make our way down the length of the strip mall to the toy store. I end up carrying Davey part of the way. By the time we make it to the toy store, I have a sore arm and have put the police officer out of my mind. We maneuver into the shop, buy the polar bear, and split.
On our way back to the car, I pass the card store and, what’s that? A “We Sell Webkinz” sign. Hey now! I drag the kids in, position the stroller so that the girls are just out of reach of the multitude of glass and ceramic doodads crowding the aisles, and grab the VERY LAST Webkinz off the display. So it’s a bug-eyed Chihuahua. It will have to do.
If Officer Fuzz hadn’t shown up and scared the piss out of me, for no real reason, I never would have walked past the card store and seen the Webkinz sign. So thank you, Officer. Perhaps we’ll name the Chihuahua “Fuzz”.
