That is of course, until - oh, approximately August 1, when the full-court press began.
My son: "Mom. I want a Mac."
Me: "Umm-hmm."
My son: "It's in my budget. Here, take a look at this one. It's got all the specs I'm looking for . . ."
And so it went. Incessantly.
Finally, we took a trip to the store.
Glitches were had. We returned home empty-handed, but only for the space of about 24 hours. That's when Dad kicked it, with his mischevious ways.
Rising early, we high-tailed it to the preceeding evening's destination and revisited the clerk who promised the goods. We then returned home, to [torment] the lad.
Here is a pictoral essay on the event, as it played out at our house. Will our lives ever be the same again? Are we all destined for the same fate?
We were at a sweet little coffeehouse Friday, and there were at least 8 of these there. No other type, mind you.
ReplyDeleteWe love ours. Once you go Mac, you'll never go back!
Amen! That's what my daughter worked all summer for. :-)
ReplyDeleteThat's one happy lad!
ReplyDeleteMuch thanks to his Dad
and his Mom who went back
to get the poor lad a Mac.
(As I forlornly type on my decrepit PC.)