so i lied

And I did not return shortly. But I did go to Costco with my Dad, and it was awesome. Grant, my 13 year old brother came too. That's right, a grown-up, a child bride, and a teenager (all with ADD) walked into a Costco together.

We chatted amicably on the drive there, until my father suddenly burst out with "I'm about 40 years away from the time you two (Grant and I) put me in a home." We assured him we wouldn't put him in a (rest) home, that we would instead make Grace (our sister) take care of him, or at the very least we'd buy him one of those live-in nurses. He was convinced however, and for the rest of the drive, reminded us that someday we'd be old, and when we were, we should "PRAY FOR A STROKE, GUYS, PRAY FOR A STROKE", so that our own children wouldn't lock us up in a "stinking facility smelling of death and urine."

Fun times!

When we arrived at Costco, I of course had to assume the role of responsible adult. Dad immediately relinquished his credit card,Costco card, and dignity to me and wandered off to "look at something for a minute." He told me and Grant to go get some toilet paper and to wait for him to "find us." At this point, Grant reverted to silence and spaced-outness,* a coping technique he frequently utilizes when faced with a situation he doesn't like. (He wanted to go look at the ipods and I wouldn't let him because I didn't want to spend hours looking for both my father and brother in a big concrete warehouse.)

So I attached him to the end of my cart and trekked on towards the paper goods.

I got two packages equalling 72 rolls of toilet paper. That should be enough to keep my family of 6 sparkly and fresh for at least a few months right? Wrong. Upon my father's return he insisted that we needed much, much, more toilet paper, because apparently the apocalypse was coming imminently, and he planned to barter toilet paper in return for the food storage items my family has failed to collect. (I frequently insert my own reasoning for my father's thinking, just fyi.) Grant awoke from his ADD slumber then, and with the fury of a very small and wiry Incredible Hulk, started chucking bulk packages of toilet paper at my father and I. We left with a total of 210 rolls of toilet paper, and my Dad muttering "we need more, let's get more," but he had already relinquished his cards and dignity so I refused to pay for more, and we left.

They punished for my insolence me by abandoning me in the check out line with two carts of toilet paper and going off to commandeer one of those electric cart things intended for the elderly. (My father flirted with the much older female Costco employee in charge of monitoring the electric carts while Grant sped away to the tire department to knock over tires.)

And that's why I haven't answered your questions. I've been recovering.

*PS I'm not judging you Grant, it is a technique I myself employ often.


Michelle said...


sounds like you have some fun times with that father and brother of yours!

JustMe said...

When can I go to Costco with you and your family? Shopping with your dad always sounds like a great adventure. But.... why didn't you let him buy something that sparkles? You know dad likes sparkles

Lisa Louise said...

wow who knew you could buy that much toilet paper and want more! This trip sounds hilarious i want to come next time.

Lindsey said...

I think I just interrupted the precious study time of my fellow zoobies here in lee's library--I was laughing so hard.
I love you Steph and I love your family. It's going to be good to see you Saturday. :)

Mrs. Clark said...

Well, you ought to be prepared for the future, when as an MCB you will be shopping with four kids under six.

Lia said...

oh oh oh, i do miss your spacey-outey ADD-lovely family. my computer had somehow held on to a picture of your dad looking like the grinch, and i came across it yesterday in a moment of nostalgic reunion. i could almost hear him chanting, "do the ugly laugh. DO THE UGLY LAUGH."

(not to mention clark's prediction that i would die. at the y)