The Escape Artist

Were you by the odd chance at some nice designer outlets near a small town in Virginia last week? No? Good. Now I am relieved. Because if you had been, you would either have-

1.Thought madness had struck me and oh so swiftly.
2. Looked at Chip weirdly and then looked at me weirdly.

It was an eventful day to say the least. The mother, the Chip and me had been out shopping for what many women shop this time of the year – Holiday Party wear. Now, I don’t do dresses. I might just do skirts, but there has got to be a better reason than a company holiday party to do ‘em. And I am thinking Halloween before your wanton imaginations run a six minute mile. So there I was looking for some dress pants and a nice silk jacket. Now, when it comes to shopping, I am unlike most of my gender. Following Caesar’s footsteps, I usually go the Veni, Vedi, Vici way. And I go armed. I know my size, I know what colors I want and I have a general idea what clothes I am looking for. And Oh. I know which store to go to. The store has to be small with a limited selection. No department stores. They drive me up the wall with their wide selection. Analysis paralysis creeps in and I fall to the ground in shambles simply comparing things. I wish for drive through clothes stores. Seriously. You know I can go - Can I get number 3 with the large gold earrings and black satin pumps?

So we went to my favorite store. Picked a pair of nice chiffony pants and a gorgeous tan silk jacket printed with flowers with a bit of embroidery thrown in. Bought three more pants (well, two of those were for the mom) and another beautiful denim jacket that fit like a glove (ignore mixed metaphor). Done with this, we stepped out to see what the hungama at the Coach store was -everybody had a Coach shopping bag- the mom and self thought they were giving bags for free. They weren’t believably, but unbelievably, there was a line to get into the store. We were dejected, there was no way we were going to stand in a line to get into a store and just then, my mom remembered. I need to go get the umm... Unmentionables. So off we went. Chip had managed to drive my mom crazy while I had shopped and was now driving me crazy because he was begging me to fix the candy cane given to him by a Santa. As soon as we entered the I picked a few things and ran to the fitting room. I had just begun to try them on, I heard my mom.

Mom: “Oh. My god”
DotMom: “What happened?”
Mom: “Chip went to a fitting room and has locked himself in.”
DotMom: “That’s OK. This way you won’t have to run after him.”
(after two minutes)
DotMom: “He is awfully quiet. Can you see his legs from under the stall?”
Mom: “No, I think he is perched on the stool.”
DotMom: “Chip, open the door now.”
Chip: giggle giggle.
DotMom: “This is not funny Chip. Open the door.”
Chip: giggle giggle.
DotMom: “OK, I am done. I am coming to get you.”

There was no way to open the stall from outside. It was time to go nuclear.

DotMom: “Ok. You can stay here Chip. We are going home. You can stay here and the store will close and it will be dark and cold and you will be all alone and scared.”
Chip: “Ok Aie, Bye! See you tomorrow.”
DotMom: “Bye Chip. “

I make shuffling sounds and we wait. And wait and wait. No sign of Chip even getting off the stool, let alone opening the door. It was getting late, we had to go home cook dinner and going nuclear hadn’t worked. What was a desperate mom to do? Dial 911 for this? Nah. When the going gets tough, the tough get going. I bent down and saw Chip’s feet dangling from the stool. I tried to grab them in the hope that would make him get off, but instead he folded his legs. Not even looking who was around me, I then did what I think every mom in my shoes would do. I got on all my fours and creeped into the stall. Chip was delighted to see his Aie slither in like a python crossed with a walrus. He got down from the stool laughing, hugged me, opened the door and ran outside. I ran after him and grabbed him and carried him to the checkout counter. There was a small line there and Chip seemed to be studying the carpet quietly. So the mom and I yapped. It was only after we went out and saw a woman glance oddly at Chip and then me, that I saw what Chip had done. He had found pantyhose stickers that said “Comfort Top” on the floor and had stuck them everywhere on his chest.