That's the start of a real story, my life, one day last week. Kind of like the start of a bar joke.
The dad wanted to take the son to the race tracks. The son needed ear protection. The kind that look like giant headphones to a 70's record player. Those.
The husband sends me to a "sporting" store with an address. I go, expecting REI on a smaller scale. "Sporting" in my mind didn't translate to THINGS THAT KILL PEOPLE AND SLICE ANIMALS store.
Let me tell you about the best part of the whole experience, besides my face as I entered the door (his tiny hand in mine) and found myself speechless when he asked what are those pointing to a glass case full of DAGGARS. They are not volleyballs, son, that's for sure. This was not the store I thought was on the other side of the door.
*
We carefully make our way to the front desk, boy pulled tightly close to avoid spilling boxes of bullets or stray rifles on display at the counter. There are several grisley men "trying out" different types of empty guns, aiming them past us at the wall. Awesome.
A man with a hesitant look approaches me and isn't sure what to say. I smile and request children's ear muffs. I pull Z to me even tighter and follow the man down a skinny aisle, guiding the diaper bag behind me and gently aiming my belly away from the end cap display of gun powder. I am having a hard time holding back my smirk at how odd we look in this store, all three of us. Totally pretending I come here all the time, like I know exactly what's going on and what we need and what that strange thing in the blue package is all about. TOTAL regulars, you better believe it.
As he selects a few options, he finally turns to me with a red face...
"How old is your son?" Avoids eye contact.
Oh! He's three! Proudly, as if it's small talk at the park.
"And.....you're taking him...............shooting?" he slowly asks with a nervous half smile.
I explain he is going to see real race cars and needs ear protection, then we get down to business and the awkwardness leaves the building.
As curious as I am about the world of how to select the right gun for what (much like my comic book curiosity), we leave quickly with the ear muffs. I silently wonder how much more fun that visit could have been if I had made random comments about a cheating boyfriend and questioned him about the price of an Ak-47.
