As a kid I learned that the so called Gates of Heaven opened on Rosh Hashanah and stayed open until the end of Yom Kippur. I therefore had about 10 days or so to get all my prayer in until The Gates slammed shut and I had to wait until next year to apologize for all my lies or ask for a Wonder Woman outfit.
I thought about this business with The Gates while I was in Foot Locker with my boys yesterday.
Shockingly, the sneakers I had purchased for them a short while ago had shredded and feet had grown and it was once again time for a sneaker outing.
This is the ONLY shopping I do with the boys; all other purchasing happens without them and, most often, online. But feet need to be measured and frankly, I have never had any success ordering them sneakers online. Plus, should I ever for a moment contemplate doing any other sort of shopping in their presence, the sneaker outing beats that contemplation out of me.
With a club.
Back to those Gates. It seems to me that the boys have an almost spiritual experience with my wallet. I can see them thinking: HER WALLET IS OPEN. IN A MATTER OF MINUTES IT WILL BE CLOSED AGAIN. WE MUST GET IN AS MUCH AS WE CAN BEFORE THE GATES OF HER WALLET CLOSE. ACT FAST. AND WITH AS MUCH COMMOTION AS POSSIBLE.
Therefore, our outing resembles those game shows in which you have 60 seconds to fill your shopping cart before the buzzer rings.
No you do not need Under Armor flip flops.
No you do not need basketball socks that cost more than the shoes I am currently wearing.
No you do not need a flap lid Lakers cap that could possibly be the dorkiest item of clothing I have ever seen in my life. I am officially adding those awful flat lidded caps to the list of fashion trends that need to end immediately–alongside peplum (please! It is only good for hiding a pregnancy!) and those dreaded Fit-Flops (double please They make legs look like tree trunks!).
My situation is not helped by the salesman who not only tried to sell me shoes that fit snugly (ensuring that I’d be back in two weeks to repeat the entire experience anew), but who also kept trying to sell us MEMORY FOAM inserts for the boys’ sneakers. He even slipped them into the shoes before he brought them out.
Really? Because I really needed a certain child to concoct an on-the-spot story about foot and knee pain in order to get the $20 inserts. Memory foam? What exactly does that insert need to memorize? The Gettysburg Address? Those shoes will be outgrown before the inserts get to “by the people.”)
I shut the salesman down, demanded shoes at least half a size bigger than he suggested, and hustled our way out of there.
The Gates of Heaven have closed, my children.
Better luck next time.
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