After an uneventful Saturday that consisted of a trip to Goodwill (wherein we purchased an only slightly dented file cabinet for $6.99, and Nicholas found himself terrified speechless by a well-meaning employee dressed in an inflatable muscle man costume) and a quick stop at Wal-Mart, I decided that we should get out of town for a bit on Sunday.
Now believe me, I vacillated on the wisdom of our impending trip. My tentative plan was to take Nicholas with me to Silverdale. To check out our previously unchecked-out reception location, and to try to find a dress. A formal dress.
I finally decided that yes, we would go, but that I would be kind and wouldn't exhaust Nicholas' little body or his patience in my search for a lovely dress that would agree to zip over my decolletage.
Our first stop was Ross, Dress for Less. Nicholas followed me quietly while I scanned the dress racks. Occassionally he would grab a frock by the sleeve and ask, "What about this one?" He was only mildly disappointed when I rejected a black polyester number with metal biker studs around the waistband. I just wasn't sure how the biker look would stand up next to Paul's dress blues...
Finally I selected five dresses and we made our way to the fitting rooms. I positioned Nicholas in an empty room directly across from mine, closed the curtain and began to remove my high top Chuck Taylors. I had my sweatshirt and one shoe off when I heard my name called from the opposite room. "Heather? I have to go to the bathroom!"
After our pit stop (I had to go, too!), Nicholas made barely a peep as I tried on each dress and stepped out of the curtained room to show him. His reactions varied from a tiny wrinkled up nose to a quiet nod accompanied by "I like it."
After a few more fruitless stops, we found ourselves in a dressing room at JCPenney. Nicholas perched on a little padded stool outside of my fitting room and remained non-committal to the first few dresses. A shrug of his skinny shoulders said it all.
After several dresses, I stepped out in a floor length black gown and asked Nicholas what he thought.
He scrutinized me closely and with all the wisdom of his five years, he uttered these words: "It doesn't matter what I think. You have to like it."
His daddy taught him well.
"Nicholas!" I exclaimed. "You don't like it?"
Once again he shrugged his shoulders. "Nah. It's too long. Try on that short black and white one."
I think I've found my new stylist...
|Exhausted by an afternoon of retail therapy.|
Don't feel too sorry for him...he was compensated for his patience with a vanilla bean Frappaccino, a Happy Meal and a scoop of bubble gum ice cream from Baskin Robbins.