I took the kids shopping for boots after school yesterday. It was really only Isaac who we were buying for, so I stayed with him and the sales associate while the other two skipped and danced their way through the store. After a while, Emma and Gabriel noticed a large bin of toy dinosaurs that had been put out for kids to play with while they waited for their parents to shop. An epic dinosaur battle ensued; a titanic duel to the death on the banks of the athletic footwear isle. After about 15 minutes of trying on the same pair of boots, Isaac made his selection, then went off to rescue a battle scared velociraptor.
As I stood at the cash register paying for the boots, I called out over my shoulder for the kids to clean up. They immediately began to sing the “Clean Up” song. The sales associate laughed. “I think it’s incredible that they do that,” she said.
“Do what?” I asked, digging through my purse for my wallet.
“Sing an actual clean up song while they clean,” she said, smiling.
“Mmm hmm,” I said, distractedly. “But are they actually cleaning?”
“Oh!” she said, after a moment. “I suppose not.”
I turned around and saw the children dancing and singing, dinosaurs held high above their heads. “They’re trying to pull a bait and switch on us,” I sighed. “They’re using their cuteness to try and distract us into thinking that singing is an acceptable substitute for cleaning.” I waited a moment, then cleared my throat loudly. The dinosaurs stopped mid-tango, then dropped lifelessly into the toy bucket.
“Amazing,” the sales associate breathed.
“Do you have children,” I asked.
“Not yet,” she answered.
“Then yes, let’s go with amazing,” I said kindly, all the while shooting daggers at the three clowns who were now standing silently by my side with their fingers up their noses.