Giddy

The other evening we took a family trip to the toy store so that Ben could utilize the birthday gift card he received to pick out something fabulous. This was the first time we'd taken a family trip to the toy store, and the process was more than overwhelming for the newly crowned four year old. Heck, I was even dizzy and disoriented. Perhaps it's because of all the chemically-ridden plastic toy objects stacked and shoved together in one space. Or maybe it's the endless aisles of STUFF everywhere, with not one employee in sight to be of assistance. Anyway, once I stopped and listened to myself directing him in the store, I realized how ridiculous I sounded: "Ben, hurry up. Let's find something to buy with your birthday money. What do you want? Look around, let's make a decision!"

I mean, honestly. The poor child walked around aimlessly, eyes as big as Buick hubcaps, stuck in the hypnotic trance of flashing, sound-making plastic toys each calling his name. How do you make a decision when every toy on the planet is there at your fingertips? By a slow process of elimination, we somehow managed to narrow it down to three candidates, and ultimately a new Star Wars something-or-other thing won the grand prize and came home with us.

Dan & I both got a kick out of the drive home. There was practically silence in the car as Ella sat sucking her thumb, and Ben held and silently worshiped the newest member of his family. After studying Ben in the rear-view mirror for a moment, Dan commented,  "Oh man, watching him I can totally remember as a kid getting a new toy, and on the ride home studying it, holding it, and the giddy anticipation of getting home so you can get it out of the box and play."

Me: "I know exactly what you mean, I did the very same thing as a kid, too. Except it wasn't ever toys that gave me a case of The Giddy's. It was shoes."