Day 43

Not long after we started The Simple Year project, we were standing in the checkout line at the grocery store and my 6-year old (the social one) turns to some random man and said, “My daddy left so we don’t buy anything new.”    I stammered around, slightly embarrassed, trying to explain.  Finally, I just rushed everyone out the door.

Later, in the car, I tried to gently explain to Kelsey that maybe she shouldn’t be telling strangers daddy was gone.  I finished it by saying, “Also, that makes it sound like daddy isn’t coming back, and your daddy is going to come home.”

So, over the weekend we were at a neighborhood garage sale.  We were in the type of neighborhood where I love to buy kids items.  You know the type of neighborhood; the houses are all relatively new builds in the upper middle class price range.  In Colorado Springs that price range seems to be between 400-500 hundred thousand (your area may be more or less depending on the real estate market).    The kind of families whose kids grow out of Gymboree and Gap Kids clothes and no longer need name brand sporting goods and Pottery Barn furnishings, however they are not so affluent that a good portion of them won’t spend a Saturday trying to make a few hundred bucks.  Then they talk about it later at soccer games and barbeques making jokes about how early people show up and complain that the shoppers don’t want to spend $10 (or 8 or 3) for something, “I paid $50 for at Dick’s Sporting Goods”.   When I’m listening to these conversations, I have to quell the urge to lecture about basic economics.  I always want to say, “It doesn’t matter what YOU paid for it, it is only worth what someone else will spend on it.”

Antiques dealers are famous for this, “That platter is WORTH $213,” they assert.  At which point I’d like to say, no you WANT it to be worth that much.  It is only ACTUALLLY worth the $46 they are selling for on eBay.

Anyway, at one of these garage sales, as I looked through a pile of kids clothing, I overheard Kelsey again telling the homeowner, “We only buy used stuff, because my dad left.”  Suddenly– remembering, she caught my eye, and then looked back at the woman and guiltily continued, “well, but he’s gonna come home (nervous laugh), yeah, he’s gonna come back when it’s almost my birthday”.

Hoh Boy…

Now the woman was giving me the pitying look reserved for someone who is deluding herself and her children.   I resisted the urge to give her a long explanation (and possibly make myself sound even more unstable) and just shrugged—doing my best to look forlorn.

On the upside, the conversation did net Kelsey, a plastic necklace, two McDonald’s toys and a small notebook that the woman impulsively grabbed off the table shoved in her hands as we were leaving.

Next time I’ll know to maneuver her closer to the high priced items from Dick’s.

Kelsey's sympathy gifts, She seems to have already lost the necklace.