Last Saturday I dragged Z across the bridge to New Jersey in order to pick up my order from The Container Store that I was too cheap to have shipped to the house. She was pretty excited to go to New Jersey, which, in her imagination, she thought of as a place to go have an adventure. Unfortunately the adventure was being led around Crate & Barrel to look at housewares AND THEN to go next door to The Container Store and do the very same thing.
Despite her boredom, she was a really good sport. She was pretty cool about helping carry things and only had one bit of upset that I didn’t get her a large fuzzy pillow. The child needs a $50 fuzzy pillow like she needs a hole in her head, so that didn’t happen. But Mommy got some cool things like a fab summer cocktail pitcher and stirrer, an individual serving brownie baking sheet, a doughnut pan, a sheet for rolling out dough to size, herb scissors and (so cute!) a powdered sugar sifter. (I’m a major sucker for kitchen stuff!)
As we waited for my order to be brought up in The Container Store, we did more wandering to see if there were any more items left to buy after the enormous order I placed during an insomniac night. In one aisle, I found a fabric covered grocery/laundry cart thing with wheels that I thought would be a great way to cart around my blankets and props during a photo shoot. Zara was more than happy to be responsible for wheeling it around the store.
When the time came to check out, both the cashier and the floor clerk who had helped me with my online order retrieval fell under the spell known to me and Mason as The Zara Effect. The kid has a magnetic pull that makes most people forget that either of us are standing with her. And when she gives them the dimpled smile, they are totally smitten.
The floor clerk asked her the obligatory, “how old are you” question. To which she gave the standard, “I’m 5 years old but am turning 6 on May 2nd.” They did a little more chatting (what school do you go to? what grade are you in?) while I watched my purchases add up on the cash register.
Then the lady asked her, “Do you know what shape this is?” pointing to one of the large dots on the cart I was buying. Now, I’m thinking to myself, if my almost 6 year old daughter cannot recognize a circle at this age, I would need to be home educating her ferociously rather than shopping away for home furnishings. The kidlet, though, gives her a look that’s a cross between do-you-think-I’m-stupid and is-this-a-trick-question?
“It’s a circle,” she declared, choosing the former interpretation over the latter.
“Very good!” enthused the floor clerk. I rolled my eyes.
“Or it could be a sphere,” Zara then posited. “Or an orb.”
“Well yes,” declared the clearly stunned woman. “It could be a sphere or an orb. You are right.”
My eye roll turned into a smirk. Don’t sell my kidlet short. Circle, my ass!
I then turned to wink at the best kid in the world. She flashed that beatific smile in my direction, and all was right with the world.