Halfway Home: A Love Story

I'm obsessed with thrift stores. I don't know if it's the treasure hunting or the being cheap (or um, frugal), but the only thing better than thrifting is shoe shopping (not the same thing). And I don't buy shoes often.

Batman's awesome red coat? Thrift store!

Today Princess and I walked to a thrift store in our little town, just over a mile each way. At the start of the journey, she was running. She squealed and skipped and bounced (which just goes to show five-year-olds have more energy than 36-year-olds). 

But halfway there, that changed. Her energy ran low, and she said she was tired (which just goes to show 36-year-olds have more endurance than 5-year-olds). So we stopped on the sidewalk, and I asked if she wanted to go home. She shook her head, and we kept going. 

Cute blue dress she wore the day we spray painted this chair red? Totally thrifted.

At the store, we found her a dress, a shirt, and a pair of shorts. She was thrilled. And the whole time we shopped, she made her usual commentary: 

"Mommy, look at this beautiful shirt! It would look pretty on you." (It was a sequined half-shirt tank top.) 

"Why do they have so many baby shoes? Babies don't need shoes."

"Aww, this book has a cat on it! Oh. . . never mind. Looks like someone tried to eat it."

And she literally announced, disappointed: "Everything in this whole store is used! All the stuff we buy here is used.stuff."

The Christmas elf's dress: Thank you, thrift store.

I explained the idea of giving and receiving, using instead of wasting. But the dog-eaten corner of that book had done her in. The thrift store lost its sparkle.

On our way home, Princess's legs got tired again, and she sighed when we climbed the hills. She'd see one in the distance and ask, "Why do we have to climb these hills?" (Two miles is a big job for little legs.) I told her we were halfway home, and we had to keep walking if we wanted to get there. She kept moving.

And as we walked down the last little hill, she saw her daddy's car pulling into our neighborhood. She squealed and darted ahead, shouting, "I got my energy back, Mommy!"

Princess ran for home, and she ran for Daddy, and her secondhand jacket went right with her. 

She forgot about used stuff and tired muscles, and she just flew home.

Love is powerful like that.

Not stopping halfway, 
Becki*