Shopping with the hunter/fisherman -- he'll be in the "toy" department, that means sporting goods

When I was a kid, my brothers and I didn't mind going to the department store with my mom. As soon as we entered the front door, we'd say in unison, "Mom, can we meet you at the toys?" Then we would skedaddle off to meet up with the 50 or so other kids in the toy department to oogle at the cool toys we could only get from Santa. Of course, that was before the sex offenders started stalking the toy departments making such activities no longer safe for children. At least, those under the age of 18.

My husband, apparently, also headed off to the toy department when he was a kid. Trouble is, he never outgrew this. He still says, as soon as we walk in the front doors of Wal-Mart, to the Mom in the group, "I'll meet you in the toys." Of course, he doesn't mean toys. He means the sporting goods department, where his toys are now fishing lures, hunting gadgets, and assorted items. He doesn't always buy anything, most of the time he just looks. It's sad when the sporting goods department staff -- all of them -- know him by first name.

While he is off chatting with other fisherman, hunters or whoever else wanders aimlessly into his vicintiy, I have to do the shopping alone with our young son. About 20 minutes into our shopping trip, he'll wander over to find us and say, "You ready to go yet?" If I say no, he'll wonder what I've been doing and why I haven't managed to fill the shopping list yet.

Other times, I have to go find him. I usually don't have to do much searching. I know right where to look, and he's usually talking with someone about hunting, fishing, the Florida he remembers as a kid before it got over-developed and where his last fishing trip was.

Then, just like my mom did when I was a child, I have to drag him out of the store.