Because lessons hadn't been learned the first time around, I was back in a mall AGAIN today. This time, however, I was with Gram and TinyTuna as we had to travel to ye yon distant mall in order to get things not readily available in ye nearby mallfullofcrap.
The drive down was quite pleasant, as the iPod was on Christmas shuffle (and honestly, whom among us does NOT enjoy Christmas carols pounded on steel drums?) and TinyTuna supplemented the humdrum pa-rum-pa-pum-pums with an electronic obbligato courtesy of her Gameboy as it booped and beeped and crashed down the highway.
Once we procured the required elements in ye yon distant mall, we began the hunt for the Grail. Today it was finding an appropriate something for TinyTuna to wear next Friday when her school has its Winter Wonderland dance thing. According to TinyTuna (code for consider the source) they were told to "dress up." Gram and I double-teamed her and explained that "dress up" meant something along the lines of please don't wear sweat pants, nasty blue jeans or pajama bottoms and not ballgowns preferred. We went in store after store after store, searching for something...anything. To her credit and dare I say good taste, she hated everything. Or at least did not prefer it. Sometimes she just made a classic YEESH MincePieFace (MPF) and snorted, so we got the idea and left. In the end we saved lots of money, but by the time we trudged back to the car, both TinyTuna and her Gameboy were on red battery about to run out of juice. It was very discouraging.
After we returned home and she had yet another rehearsal, we decided to hit one last clothing emporium. We walked in the door and voila! Options! Clothing that covered! Not skanky! Wouldn't go up in flames in 5 seconds flat! TinyTuna was in heaven and you could see the weight of her 12-year old world lift. She selected a black skirt that has a lovely twirl factor and a cute red camisole and shirt that has a smidgen of sparkle and long sleeves with the big billowy cuffs.
As luck would have it, I also found a little something something to wear for my mystery date on New Years Eve (the mystery being the where of the date and not the whom. Scout is being uncharacteristically secretive in a somewhat charming way on this one).
As we went to pay and I was complementing her on her selection that was BOTH stylish and appropriate (this is HARD, people!) she leaned in and whispered, Do you think he'll like it? I looked at her, knowing EXACTLY to whom she was referring and whispered, If he doesn't he has no taste whatsoever. She thought about it for a minute and replied, "Yeah. If he doesn't like it, I'll hit him over the head with his cello."
Although I outwardly chuckled and told her that might not be the best idea, I was inwardly impressed. A little crack upside the head with a large stringed instrument would surely get the point across. But then I was faced with a dilemma: Scout doesn't play the cello...