The kids and I spent the morning strolling the streets of Rockport with my father-in-law; mostly window-shopping but occasionally wandering into a souvenir shop (of which there were many). My mother-in-law and G.G. had wisely parked themselves on a shaded bench in the park and waved us on hours before. As the sun climbed higher in the sky and the kids’ blood sugar levels plummeted from salt-water taffy spikes, I suggested we head back. My father-in-law shook his head: “There’s one more store we have to visit.”
The kids took up the chant, “One more store! One more store!”
I sighed and assented. There is no persuading my father-in-law once his mind is made up.
He set off at a brisk clip down Bearskin Neck. Small, Medium and Large trotted after him like he was piping a tune on a magic flute. The gap between us grew larger and so he was 30 feet from me when I saw him reach his destination. I actually gasped in horror when I saw the sign:
He and the kids tromped in. I stood outside and took this picture.
You get what you deserve.
And I felt I deserved a moment to myself.
(In all fairness to my father-in-law, who is a wonderful man and grandfather, the House of Glass has a lovely toy store in the front of the building. While I might not have allowed the kids to walk past hundreds of dollars of breakable items just to get to some toys, in the end, nothing was broken. And as they say: All’s well that ends well.)