I Scream, You Scream.

A couple weeks ago, Kiernan had a visit from his Granddaddy Jake and his Omi, pictured above. Jake is Wendy's father, and Omi--otherwise known as Karen--is Wendy's stepmom. The two of them live in Colorado and had flown out to spend some time with us and to see our brother-in-law Mitch play a show in San Diego with his band, Ape. Or maybe Mitch was playing in a band with an ape. Or as an ape. I don't know. There was some combination of Mitch, a guitar, and a simian...I do know that.

Before the concert Jake and Karen drove up from San Diego to spend a couple of days with us. They arrived around lunchtime, and we showed what a class establishment we are running by promptly taking them to Subway for lunch. Furthermore, we made them walk to the place, and let them pay. What can I say, that's how we roll.

After lunch we got to spend about seventeen hours in TJMaxxxxxxxx, a Ross-like store in the same shopping center as Subway, looking at geegaws and other assorted bits of junk. Karen was excited that TJ Maxx was right there, and while Wendy absolutely hates to shop, she felt it would be poor hospitality to deny Karen the chance to find the perfect watch that she could return the next day. There was a weird sort of payola aspect to this shopping stint, however. Karen picked out a pair of earrings that somehow wound up in Wendy's jewelry drawer because Karen supposedly didn't really like them that much once she got them home. Also, Kiernan got a new ball to play with. It gave me the feeling that strange things were going on behind my back, but at the end of the day, it is the grandparents' perogative to spoil the grandkid. Besides, what's the big deal about one new little ball, I told myself.

Foolish, foolish man.

Located next to TJ Maxx is a drug store. I think it is a Rite Aid. We went in there next, as the grandparents needed some superglue or something, while Granddaddy Jake spent two or three hours in line waiting to pay for the merchandise back at TJ Maxx. Kiernan and I wandered the aisles for a little bit until he caught sight of a rack of balls, one of those huge steel cages that sits at the end of the aisle and is just crammed full of balls of all sizes and colors. His eyes lit up like, well, like Karen and Wendy's did moments before at the TJ Maxx jewelry counter. Kiernan and I stood there playing with those balls for what seemed like twenty minutes. He would take the a ball out of the feeder hole that was right at his level, and toss it on the floor of the store. I would grab it before it could get away and toss it back up into the steel cage. It felt like fielding practice, if fielding practice were done with huge bouncing pink baseballs.

Finally Wendy announced that we were ready to get going. We went to the front of the store to meet the others. This particular Rite Aid has a counter for ice cream at the front. Wendy and Karen stood over by this counter, speaking in hushed, conspiratorial tones. Before I knew it they had bought Kiernan an ice cream cone. We're not much for giving Kiernan sweets, but again the fact of the grandparents getting to spoil the grandkids overrode my concerns. Besides, as I said in an earlier post, Kiernan's association with the letter "I" is the term "ice cream". He does not say the words when he sees the letter "I", rather he gives the hand sign for "ice cream", which is basically licking his index finger.

Fast forward to the next morning.

Karen has decided to return the watch she bought the day before. The earrings should have been returned as well, but they somehow found their way into Wendy's jewelry collection, as previously mentioned. Wendy had some work to do for school, so I walked over to TJ Maxx with Granddaddy Jake and Omi and Kiernan. After returning the watch, we went back into Rite Aid because Jake needed some more superglue or a new satellite dish or something. We walked into the drug store behind Jake and Karen. As we crossed the threshold into the store, Kiernan gave the hand sign for ice cream.

Now, Kiernan and I have been in this drug store many, many times. We have bought all kinds of things there. Juice. Baby food. Diapers. Wipes. It took one ice cream cone to get him to associate the store with ice cream. One. Eat your heart out, Pavlov.

While Jake and Karen went about looking for their whatnots, Kiernan and I proceeded to the middle of the store to play with the balls for a few minutes. We got the call that it was time to go, and emerged from the aisle to find Omi standing before the ice cream counter, holding an ice cream cone. "Is this okay," she asked, after Kiernan had already seen the cone. I looked at my watch. It was around 10:00...AM!

I don't think I'll ever be able to go back to that drug store again.

On the bright side, at least I won't be blamed for getting my son hooked on ice cream before he was two. Being addicted to ice cream is his birthright as a Murawski. Legend has it that my dad fed me ice cream to assuage my anger while I was teething. I point to this as an excuse for why no carton of ice cream, no matter what size, stays in our freezer for more than two days. Because of the actions of Omi and Granddaddy Jake, Kiernan won't be able to similarly blame me. So I can eat as much New York Super Fudge Chunk in front of him as I want to, guilt free.

All hail grandparents, and their inherent right to spoil grandkids. Who knew it would benefit me?