PIERCINGS AND SHOPPING

‘I’m giving you one more warning…’, started the heavily tattoed man. The stern look on his face, paired with the tattoos covering his arms, convinced us he was quite serious.

My daughter was tightening her fists, getting ready for the imminent pain. He continued to state that if my daughter did not relax, he would not be able to do the piercings and the money paid for the procedure would be lost.

‘Ok’, my daughter replied. Since Cinnamon paid for the piercings with the earnings from her first paycheck, she knew she couldn’t jeopardise losing the fifty dollars she had just spent.

The belly button ring came first. My daughter fought the pain and stayed as still as she could. The nose ring followed and wasn’t so bad.

‘I’m glad it’s over. I wouldn’t want to do it again’, she mentioned as we got in the car. Her sister didn’t want to see the procedure. She and her brother sat out in the waiting room as I sat with Cinnamon. Aside from waiting the 20 or so minutes in our air-conditioned car for her turn, the entire process took less than 15 minutes. Shopping was next on our agenda.

As soon as we walked into Nordstrom, Sage bolted upstairs. Knowing he did not care to spend hours at the mall, I gave him the choice to stay home. He decided to come along but disappeared for most of the three hours we were there.

The girls searched around various stores for the end-of-summer sales. They need clothes for the new school year which will be starting in the middle of next month. Though Sage also needs clothes, he would rather spend his time at the Lego store or looking at anything technology related. I would have to simply look online and have him approve the choices.

As the mall was closing, we headed back to Nordstrom and waited for Sage to arrive. He finally showed up carrying a large Lego bag.

‘What did he buy? The Titanic set?!’, exclaimed Saffron.

My son showed us the small Minecraft set he bought and said he had a choice between a tiny bag which fit only half the box, or the larger bag. He opted for the larger bag.

On our way home, we discussed what would happen when the girls returned to their father’s house. I told them that since both he and I had already agreed to the piercings, there was no need to worry about what the stepmother would say. But they did worry and thought their father would also get reprimanded for not consulting her. Once again, I explained that we are her parents and we gave our approval.

After a short return to my place to eat the last of the buttermilk pancakes from this morning’s special Sunday breakfast, my daughter texted me with the verdict: ‘Papa said he liked it’.

I smiled. Not just at the response, but at the realisation that today’s adventure with the piercings and shopping turned out better than I had expected. It was truly a ‘happy Sunday’.