We may come close to approximating our ideal or perfect day, but rarely if ever, do we get to live it. Even if we could have it, we would inevitably try and repeat it. And if realized, it would become a routine, ordinary day, spiraling into plain vanilla. Then, we would fantasize about a different perfect day: a mythical day where we pause, look to the heavens, and proclaim, “I love this day.”
But, while perfection may be beyond our grasp, we can still love this day, the one we have.
The recent string of snowy weather, plus the uptick of Covid, meant my granddaughter, Emersyn (Emmie), missed several days of her kindergarten classes. My wife, Emmie’s “Gigi,” kindly pitched in, filling the gaps for Emersyn’s extra hours at home. On one of those occasions, I substituted for Gigi when she had an appointment.
“What should I do with Emmie?” I wondered.
Emmie decided for me.
“PopPop,” her voicemail said early that morning, “we’re going shaawping,” sing-songing her pronunciation of shopping, thereby propelling it into the stratosphere of highest expectations.
“This is a big deal to her,” I thought.
Baby doll clothes and selective items for arts and crafts topped her shopping list. So, off we went. I pushed the cart, trying to keep pace with Emmie while she sashayed up one aisle and down another. She paused only long enough to say, “Let’s see, I need that,” and “Oh yes, I need that too,” tossing each item in the cart as she marched through the store. Not everything in Dollar Tree is a dollar anymore, which I learned upon checkout, where our little spree topped out at $25.76.
“Oh well,” I thought, as we exited, our items poking out of our shopping bags. An older gentleman was grinning at us, as if to say to me, “I’ve been there, son.”
“PopPop, I didn’t find the baby doll clothes I wanted,” Emmie informed me as we drove away from Dollar Tree. She suggested Family Dollar. Obviously, the child was more familiar with these shopping establishments than I was, so I agreed, and off we drove to our next destination.
Unable to find our baby doll clothes at Family Dollar, she asked to have a glittery ball. “Of course, get two of them,” I said, thinking I had enough pocket change to pay for two balls.
“$22.26 for two balls?” I looked incredulously at the checkout lady.
“Those are lol balls, $11 apiece,” she informed me. “They’re ‘the thing’ now.”
I peered down at Emmie as we walked out, balls in the bag. Without a word of defense, she raised her eyebrows while shrugging her shoulders as if to say, “Don’t blame me for your ignorance, PopPop.”
“We still haven’t found the baby doll clothes I was hoping for, PopPop,” she told me as we got in the car.
She wasn’t whining, but just one look at her sad face in my rearview mirror, and we were in the baby clothes section at Wal-Mart.
“Let’s try to find clothes on clearance,” I suggested, steering her to the sale-item section, when a friendly employee, trying to be helpful, redirected us to the more attractive infant items, not on sale, of course. Before I could turn my head, Emmie was displaying the perfect ensemble for her baby doll.
Emmie was bargaining with me for a second item when her internal lunch alarm saved me: “PopPop, I’ve got to eat. I’m starving.”
Several lunch items later, we were checking out.
“Emmie, I’m going to get in trouble with Gigi when she sees all I’ve bought for you.”
“I love getting you in trouble, PopPop,” she giggled.
“Of course, you do,” I laughed as we got out of the car, back home.
I watched from the other side of the room as Emmie bragged about her items, lifting each one out of the bag so Gigi could eye them one at a time. When Emmie had finished her display, I heard her exclaim, “I love this day.”
And looking back, I did too, Emmie. Even though I wouldn’t have envisioned it as my iconic, ideal day earlier that morning, it was, in fact, the perfect day.
Because, after all, you loved it.