Hadley had an unprecedented lunch today: clam chowder, mashed potatoes with bacon, a grilled-cheese sandwich, a Boca burger, tequila-lime wings, a beef chimichanga with guacamole, chicken potstickers, chicken pot pie, lamb shanks, chips and salsa, and she then finished it off with bagels topped with epicurean wild blueberry and orange coconut butters (for babies with distinguished tastes).
Costco is her second-favorite place on earth (Grandma’s being the first). We wanted to go biking today but the crummy weather forced us indoors. We were sad and bored until we remembered that Friday at Costco is to dieters what hunting season is to deer: deadly. But it is also the epicenter for free lunches.
Haddie joyously hopped in the cart and we did the rounds. Following our first course, I set her loose at the Costco playground–the crates made for great hide-and-seek, the 20-lb flour bags a stellar climbing gym. We were having the time of our lives.
And then something glorious happened: we figured out The Sample System. Every half hour, the folks manning the sample stations rotate. New station, new people. If you want, you could do the rounds all over again. And again. Uh. Not that I would ever teach my child to do such a thing. Well, except for the really tasty stations.
On the way home, a blast from the past came over the airwaves: Thriller by Michael Jackson. I don’t care who you claim to be. If you were a child of the 80s, Halloween music = Thriller. I still remember doing the moonwalk to the video in Avril Watt’s basement back in sixth grade. We defied coolness. I think she even wore the white glove.
Though I always loved Thriller, I can’t say I was ever a fan of the King of Pop. This was put to the test in 7th grade when I made the 8th grade soccer team. Even though I was in, I had to prove I was really in with older girls. Their test question? Whether or not Michael Jackson was cool. I was frazzled. He was still popular enough that the wrong answer could’ve ruined my season and potentially my life (remember the melodrama of junior high?)
I finally answered honestly that I wasn’t a big fan of Wacko Jacko. They gave me the golden handshake and finally, I was in. I have Michael’s uncoolness to thank for my own coolness on the 7th grade soccer team (well, if leg warmers, blue eye shadow, big hair and shoulder pads constitute coolness?…)
I'm a Canadian-born mom of two, former Denver Post columnist, family travel writer, editor of MileHighMamas.com and 9News contributor. Expert on all things Utah, Denver, family and travel. Lover of laughter and life. Happily married to a man obsessed with growing The Great Pumpkin. 