I don’t think I’ve ever gone from being so irritated by something Will said to so amused in such a short time.
After work yesterday I took him to Dick’s Sporting Goods. I received a $50 gift certificate courtesy of Klout and its Perks program(which you should check out if you haven’t already), and I thought it was the perfect opportunity to get Will ready. Ready for what? Well, I’m THRILLED to announce I will be fulfilling a true father-son moment on Saturday when I take my son to his first Red Sox game at Fenway Park!! And a momentous occasion such as this deserves a new Red Sox shirt at the bare minimum.
I’ve been trying to keep it a surprise but I couldn’t. So on the way to the store I started giving Will hints. Unfortunately, I forgot that 3-year-olds are selfish little assholes who can only live in the now.
“OK buddy, your first hint is its something you’ve been asking for for awhile now.”
“A REAL DRAGON?!!?!?”
“What?? No. Not a dragon. Something even better.”
“A Zippleback Dragon (fans of How to Train Your Dragon know what I’m talking about)??”
“Buddy, forget the dragons. OK, I’ll give you another hint. We’re gonna ride the train to get there!”
“YAY! YAY! Dada, you take me to StoryLand (a kids amusement park in NH my parents just took him to)??”
“Wow. This was not a good idea. No bud, not Storyland. The place we’re going is in Boston.”
“We go to the aquarium to pet stingrays?”
(Completely exasperated at this point)
“FENWAY PARK! I’m taking you to Fenway Park to see the Red Sox!”
“No, not right now. On Saturday.”
“BUT I WANNA GO NOWWWWWWWWW!”
It’s my own fault. Expecting a 3-year-old to think about the big picture and just push his overwhelming sense of immediacy aside was foolhardy at best. But after some warnings about whining and the promise of a new Red Sox shirt at Dick’s, he was fine again. And with that we entered the massive sporting goods store, much to Will’s amazement when he walked in and saw their ridiculous inventory of everything from paintball guns to golf clubs.
We made a beeline for the team sports apparel and started combing through the vast array of Patriots and Red Sox gear they had available. Although I had envisioned a Red Sox shirt, the allure of a shiny new Patriots jersey for Will just in time for the start of the season was pretty enticing as well. So I began tearing through the youth jerseys looking for just the right player and the right size.
And that’s when it started.
I heard her before I saw her. The over-excited, high-pitched whine of a spoiled princess. Talking about how she needs a new Patriots jersey every year, and this year she likes Wes Welker because “he’s little just like me.” She was obviously talking to someone, and it didn’t surprise me at all when they came into view. She was an attractive woman in her late 20s/early 30s. Cute, brunette with HUGE boobs. And he was…older. Probably late 40s, early 50s. Instead of the Red Sox logo on his shirt it should’ve just read “SUGAR DADDY!”
Let’s just say I don’t think she was after his youthful good looks, and he probably hasn’t spent a lot of late nights discussing Tolstoy with her.
I figured they’d pass us by because she said she was looking to buy a jersey for herself, and the adult section was on the other side of the display. But much to my dismay, she came right next to me and Will and started obnoxiously looking through the kids’ jerseys. Not toddler-sized, but for bigger kids. I was confused for a second, thinking maybe she was buying a gift for a child. Sugar Daddy was also perplexed as he tried to steer her towards the appropriate section. But she was not having it.
“I know a youth large will fit but I think I might have to down to a youth medium,” she said in a matter of fact tone.
At that point my head snapped around. I couldn’t help it. As discreetly as possible (which wasn’t discreet in the least bit), I watched as she whipped off her shirt (don’t worry, she had a tank-top on) and began trying on jerseys. Forget for a second that the dressing rooms were a few feet away. Even though she had a tank-top on, she was not leaving much to the imagination. This chick was on par with Pam Anderson. It looked like two hot air balloons were trying to lift off her chest.
As I said, she was attractive. She wasn’t fat at all, just thick. As in not rail thin, which I greatly prefer. Especially when you factor in what was happening in the chesticle department. A regular jersey would’ve looked just fine on her and she would’ve had no problem garnering as much male attention as she desired.
So I’m not sure why she looked at that kids jersey and decided that the laws of physics ceased to exist within its confines.
I watched as she tried to pull something meant for a 10-year-old over the twin peaks and down to her waist. Suddenly an attractive woman was transformed into a sausage within its casing. It’s the same reason I don’t wear wife-beater shirts, because I know my limits and I try to wear clothes that don’t accentuate my fatness. Poor Sugar Daddy glanced at me as I quickly snapped my eyes back to Will, and he could only offer up a “it looks nice but how about this one” as he held up a bigger size.
She must’ve tried on five different jerseys, which was annoying because she was shopping on the same rack we were. When we first arrived Will had picked out an adult-sized Danny Woodhead jersey, but I told him he couldn’t have it because it was too big, and that section of jerseys was for adults. Apparently this stuck in his memory, because then he spoke in a very irritated fashion.
“Dada, these are for kids. She needs go to big girl section.”
I couldn’t agree more buddy.
DISCLOSURE: I was given a free product or sample because I’m a Klout influencer. I was under no obligation to receive the sample or talk about this company. I get no additional benefits for talking about the product or company.