With graduation looming on the horizon, Sydney was able to guilt me into going to the mall for a new dress. "Simple, understated yet sophisticated" was the order of the day and obviously, I was the girl for the job. "Look a pig!" I shouted excitedly, pointing into a store and then, horrified, I rushed in to reassure shoppers that I was not referring to them but an adorable printed tee with a sparkly swine on the front. Sydney didn't find it simple, understated or sophisticated so we moved on.
Rule #1 in trying on dresses is to remove one's socks as it seems to improve perspective. Only Gidget and Annette Funicello can successfully pull off the ankle socks with dress combo. Socks on the rest of us only seem to emphasize our tree trunk calves, wrinkly elephant knees and cankles. Sydney ignored my helpful advice as I tried to pair up an elephant tank top with an adorable pachyderm pendent to complete the theme but Syd found it easier to just take off the socks.
Styles these days are a little shocking. Every time Sydney held up a dress for my approval, I would be convinced we'd accidentally wandered into the little girls' section. "It's so short," I observed, "not that there's anything wrong with that." My daughter would then frown and stuff the garment back on the rack. "What if you drop your diploma as you walk across the stage," I shouted after her as she hurried off in search of a simple, understated yet sophisticated monk's cowl.
We shifted this fun mother-daughter experience to some neutral ground: the food court. I wandered past the Japanese place and sampled an offering from the woman who would become, in Sydney's opinion, my spiritual guide. "What is this," I asked her as she kindly took my elbow and guided me to the register. "You have chicken yum yum," she told me and I didn't disagree. "Number 2," she told the food service worker behind the counter who asked me if I wanted white rice or fried rice. My spiritual guru saved me the trouble of even considering that mind-boggling choice. "You have fried rice." O-kay. When asked what beverage I'd like, I decided to treat myself to a rare Pepsi. Given my choice of cup sizes, my new friend insisted that I be given a bottle. Clutching my chicken yum yum, I begged my spiritual guide to accompany us dress shopping but alas, she had others to assist in determining their menu selections. It wouldn't be fair to selfishly monopolize her gifts.
I acquired a much-coveted window seat and, while waiting patiently for Sydney to finally receive her fast food burger order (no mystical spiritual guide there, apparently), I watched with fascination as people randomly appeared from a secret door built into the side wall of the mall. Long-time fans of the Narnia series, Sydney and I observed, with rapt attention, as the occasional person would walk down the long corridor leading to the restroom but, instead of returning like the majority of visitors, would emerge outside, popping out of this magical portal like a bunny from a burrow. Naturally, we had to try this.
Rule #1 in trespassing is confidence. Chins squared, shoulders straight, we strode strongly forward. Passing the restrooms, I breezed through swinging double doors like a cowboy, passing a man pushing a cleaning cart. Sydney nodded at him with a "what's up" attitude as we caught a glimpse of Room 21 before exiting. Adrenaline still pumping, we wiped the sweat from our brows, high-fived and returned to the mall.
Eventually, when I couldn't stand the mall any longer, Syd and I braved parking lot traffic to hike to Target as we still had 45 minutes before Brad was scheduled to pick us up. The Mosimans can amuse themselves endlessly in the dog supply department before getting kicked out for being obnoxious. Waiting on a bench outside the store, we were engaged in conversation by a woman with a stuffed giraffe who will be hosting a bridal shower tomorrow. All of the items she purchased would serve as an object lesson for marriage, she explained. "Oh," I exclaimed prematurely, "you chose the giraffe because it has such a long tongue." Sydney hid her face while the woman stared at me in confusion before correcting me. "No. The giraffe is a quiet animal and the lesson is that sometimes you need to listen." It was my turn to be confused. Fortunately, Brad pulled up so we bid our new friend farewell before jumping in the van. An hour later, we arrived home, victorious, with two simple, understated yet sophisticated dresses for Sydney and a kooky vulture squeak toy for Chlo. In the end, everyone was happy. Sydney was satisfied with her selections. Chlo loved her squeaky toy. And I'm reasonably confident that, if Syd should drop her diploma, she's covered...no if, ands, or buts.
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