“How about your lunch box? That’s still in good shape, isn’t it?” I asked my son as we entered aisle seven.
A sales associate was arranging packs of neon post-it notes in a colorful pattern on the end cap. Two other employees were suspending a back-to-school banner from the ceiling – a friendly greeting that arched over our heads and welcomed us into a rainbow of school supplies.
Hundreds of Hannah Montana notepads smiled at us from the shelves. The tidy display of Barbie backpacks and super hero organizers told me that 2008 would mark the year I arrived at Wal-Mart in time to beat the back-to-school rush.
“I definitely need a new lunch box,” my nine-year-old informed me. “I’m too old for one with a silly character on it.”
Good, I thought. I don’t mind spending ten dollars to help my son transition into manhood.
“What about your backpack? Is that still good?”
“No, Mom, the wheels fell off.”
Fine. I can spend another $25.
“If you plan on eating Spaghettio’s every day, we need to replace your old Thermos, too,” I said, suddenly fearing that because I hadn’t seen my son’s Thermos all summer, it was probably rolling around under the backseat of the minivan with crusty pasta sauce still in it.
“Oh yeah, that’s been missing for a while, Mom.”
And so on it went, a leisurely day of shopping in the land of plenty with my fourth grader. I almost looked forward to doing it again the next day with my daughter.
NOT.
Something happened over night that I can’t explain. Perhaps it was a tornado that swept through the store as we slept. Aisle seven was a disaster. The welcome banner was gone, ripped from the sky. The pretty packages of post-it-notes were missing; only pale yellow ones remained. Nothing was in its proper place.
I took my daughter’s hand to brave the barrage of shopping carts that clamored for position in the aisle. Desperate moms were hoarding supplies as if their survival depended upon claiming the last three-ring binder with Bratz on it.
“What’s first on your list?” I demanded.
“A one-gigabyte USB jump drive,” my daughter reported.
I was sure we would never uncover one of those in the rubble that engulfed us. I immediately phoned my husband for backup.
“I’ll get the jump drive from the computer store,” he responded. “You grab the folders and whatever ruled paper you can. I’ll find tennis shoes that fit the boy (he always calls our son “the boy” when we’re in crisis mode) and you handle the uniforms for the girl.”
Okay. We had a plan.
And so on it went, the frantic search for everything we needed to ensure our children didn’t flunk school because we bought the wrong kind of pencils.
Perhaps I’m exaggerating (a little), but back-to-school shopping can be quite maddening, even if you come prepared. Give yourself a financial break by heading to the store this weekend (Aug. 15-17) to take advantage of tax free shopping. Most clothing, shoes and backpacks priced under $100 will be tax exempt.
Then share your back-to-school experiences with neighborsgo by posting your comments or a blog of your own. Submit your back-to-school photos and videos for a chance to see your student or favorite teacher spotlighted in an upcoming print edition.
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