25 cents of pure hell

Everywhere I go, and I mean everywhere, they're there. Usually, right as I enter a store after having spent time prepping the kids on their expected store behavior, we walk straight into a giant plastic machine or group of machines filled with every tiny thing their little hearts could ever desire. Rubber balls, gumballs, action heroes, cheap crappy toys. And all for just 25 cents! The boys collectively gasp and make a bee-line, oohing and aahhing over the miniscule (and did I mention crappy?) treasures. Any Mom who sees longing on her child's face and knows she can offer them a little piece of joy and delight for a mere quarter will cave. Having a happy child is priceless, right?

But it never goes that way. After rummaging frantically in my purse, I'm always grateful to actually find three quarters. Usually it's just two and until a few months ago, that didn't matter. Cooper was too young to really get it. But now, he's no fool. He doesn't fall for the, "Hey, did I just see a cat over there?" ploy as I hand his big brothers their quarters behind my back. So then I try to prepare them by explaining that what they get is what they get. There is no way to get the exact toy they see beckoning them through the glass. They can't pick the color. They can't pick anything. They agree that, yes, it's okay. They'll be happy with whatever comes out.

So we proceed. Insert coin. Turn the dial (all the way for the love of God or you'll lose your money child!!). Open the door. Pop open the plastic egg...viola! And he's in tears on the floor. It's not the right one. So we try again, hoping maybe a trade can be made or a deal reached between loving brothers. But no, the second child gets exactly what he wanted. The first one remains crying in a heap. One more try. It jams. There are no more quarters. The third child drops to the floor. So much for shopping. I retreat with my 2/3 broken-hearted group, the other 1/3 gloating about his perfect toy. Then, he usually drops it somewhere in the car, losing it down some obscure crack never to be seen again and I get to drive home cursing under my breath as they howl in the back seat. Never. Again. I say. Never. Again.

This is my submission for the Mama Says Om theme of the week: delight, or in my case: delight? yeah right!