Don’t ever say no to a mom who is garage sale shopping. I absolutely guarantee that you will live to regret that moment for the rest of your life. Okay, maybe that is a little extreme, my husband always says I like to exaggerate to prove a point. It could be possible he is right, but DO NOT tell him that. I repeat, DO NOT tell him that. He must never know that I, on very rare occasion, can be wrong.
Back to the garage sale. A few weekends ago, the boys and I got dressed and headed out for the BIGGEST community garage sale in the East Valley. There were 150+ houses participating, at least, that’s what the craigslist ad said and, you know, those are NEVER wrong.
We began our journey and I knew it was going to be a rough one, because this neighborhood is not known to be one chock full of families, more like grandparents. Case-in-point, this is where my parents live. Thus, there would likely be an extreme lack of toys to keep the boys pumped up. But we trudged on through anyway.
Finally, after about 10 or so houses, we find one. Alleuia! I could almost see the clouds part and a little beam of sunlight graze this home. Almost. From about 2 houses away I spotted what appeared to be toys and books. Suhhhweeet! Finally, something for the turkeys! I already had a couple of good finds for mommy and daddy, but they were getting a little edgy.
So we head on up and sure enough there were toys and a box of books. The toys were girl toys, dolls and such so they didn’t hold the boys attention for long. The books, though, there were some pretty decent books and I selected a couple of paperback childrens’ books I thought the turkeys might like. I approached the owner of said books. The following conversation transpired:
Me: “How much for these books?”
Her: “A dollar.”
Me: “Okay”, and I hand her a dollar.
Her: “No, a dollar each.”
Me: “How about two for $1?”
Me, flabbergasted: “No, you actually just said no.”
She, lovely, greedy, woman that she was didn’t have time to respond as we hear a blood curdling scream. My turkeys come tearing out of the garage with arms full of hot wheels. Her son, the screamer, is after them, “Mine, mine, mine!”
So after the uncomfortable conversation regarding the negotiation of the children’s books, we had to sit there and sort out whose cars were whose and her kid was freaking out. It was fun. (read awkward).
Although, I may or may not have been secretly grinning on the inside thinking, “Guess you shouldn’t have said no.”
Love and Peace