Another Mall Story

“Can you take me to the mall?”

Sound pretty simple doesn’t it? Boy Twin recently asked my if I would drop him off at the mall. I guessed he wanted to hang out with his friends, just like I had done when I was his age.

There were some differences, though. I asked my mother if I could go to the mall. If she said yes, and she usually did, I would get on my bike and ride the three miles to the mall. My friends and I rode our bikes to the mall hundreds of times. We also rode our bikes to the reservoir, to downtown, to school.,and to my grandparent’s house. Did I tell you I didn’t wear a helmet? Nope, no helmet. All that riding, and no helmet. I’m still here, hmmm, go figure. (OK, judging by some of these stories, you know I didn’t arrive unscathed.)

While we are on the subject, I still ride a bike without a helmet. If you should see some old guy riding down the road, white hair and beard, looking like he is out of oxygen, give him a whole lot of room. He needs to get home and write stories, feed livestock, and take Boy Twin to the mall.

Well, back to the mall story. Our yarn store is less than a mile from the mall. (I bring this up because Ivy tells me, I don’t write enough about the store and yarn. So, if I mention our yarn store, I have fulfilled my obligation to Ivy. I have a lot of responsibilities when I write these stories.) Anyway, I was just a couple minutes from the mall. It was no big deal to drop him off at the mall.

Of course, in my day I probably would have walked because my parents would not take me, I can here my Mom now, “You might as well walk, that is why we bought you shoes.” God, I miss that woman.

Before I dropped Boy Twin off at the mall I made sure which door he was meeting his friends. The mall must have a dozen entrances and I didn’t want to spend my afternoon circling the mall to find his friends.

Hey, did I mention I didn’t have a cellphone when I went to the mall with my friends? Nope, my mom told me when to be home and I went home at that time. Now, kids have phones to tell parents when to pick them up. We can debate which way was better. Maybe you can text me and we could set up a time to talk. (Are you starting to see why the twins wish they had different parents?)

Arriving at the pre-determined meeting entrance, Boy Twin announced, “That’s them in that car!” I looked for a safe place to stop the truck and let him out. I pulled into one of the five unused handicap parking spaces thinking I am just pulling in and pulling back out, (No, I don’t use handicap parking and I didn’t get a ticket.) when Boy Twin says to me, “Well, aren’t you getting out?” ”Why am I getting out?”, I replied. Before he could speak I saw the answer to my question.

Standing next to the car he told me was his friends was a man, a woman and a teenage girl. Boy Twin was on a date and I was about to meet the parents. My truck is sitting in a handicap parking space.

I don’t park in handicap parking spaces legally or illegally. I had to move my truck if I was getting out. With Dad, Mom and the girl standing by their car I drove away to another parking spot.

Eventually, Boy Twin (and Ivy) and I parked the truck and walked over to meet the parents. Everyone was extremely nice. The parents knew more about why they were there than I did. They were younger than me. (OK, everyone is.) First impressions are everything, and I am a shorts wearing, long-haired, bearded grandpa parked in a handicap space. I was guessing the parents were wondering what their daughter saw in Boy Twin. Frankly, I was also. He/they are so young.

We all agreed the “date” would last one hour. Boy Twin would call me when it was over. (That wouldn’t have worked with my Mom.)

One hour wasn’t long enough and Boy Twin called me to ask if he could go to the girl’s house. I’m guessing he was charming enough to get an invitation. (I was surprised, they don’t know him like I do.)

Elaine and I picked up Boy Twin at the girl’s house giving Elaine the opportunity to meet the parents. Again, both parents and the girl were charming. I don’t know where this goes from here, but Boy Twin knows it is fodder for my stories. Stay tuned.

Hey Mom, if there is anyway you could be reading this crap, HELP!

Our crazy lives!

Monner