Because Dylan feels it’s her moral obligation to point out gross inequities in the world, she recently notified me that we only have ONE pink ponytail holder. This would force either Summer or herself to use a ponytail holder of a far inferior and completely revolting color like blue or green or red.
I immediately grasped the gravity of the situation and took Dylan to the drugstore to buy more pink ponytail holders. I believe in throwing money at a problem, particularly when by “money” I mean “$1.69.”
So Dylan picks out the new hairbands (a multitude of colors including precious pink ones, adorned with sparkly plastic gems – so it’s pretty much a miraculous blessing from God). We are standing in line to pay for the new hair accessories, when I see Dylan licking the hairbands.
I notice this because I’m extremely perceptive and also because it’s hard to not notice a child licking merchandise at Duane Reade.
“Dylan, please stop licking those! We haven’t even paid for them. That’s icky,” I say.
I take the hairbands, attempt to wipe them off and hand them to the cashier. I’m realizing for the first time in all my years of shopping that unintended contact with foreign saliva is a downside to being a cashier.
After paying, I hand the hairbands back to Dylan who immediately resumes licking them.
“Dylan! I told you to stop that! They’re not clean.”
And she replies, “No, you just told me that we had to pay for them first.”
My thinking is that pink hairbands are just so magical, they must taste like fresh, sweet, irresistible cotton candy.
My husband is thinking he’s completely grossed out by this whole post.