At the risk of sounding immodest, I am nominating myself for the Grandfathers' Hall of Fame.
Replica Furla Handbags Until recently, I would have rated my performance as pretty ordinary, grandfatherly-wise. Mostly it didn't go beyond the typical duties. Taking them to fishing holes and baseball games. Sitting with them and watching a "Kung Fu Panda" DVD ... four times. Attending dance recitals and assuring them that they were the best enchanted princesses who ever wore a tutu and that probably hardly anyone noticed when they fell off the stage.
But last weekend my 5-year-old granddaughter comes for a visit with an itinerary that has nothing to do with smallmouth bass or infield fly rules. She wants to spend an afternoon of shopping, lunch and a manicure.
"Nana will love doing that with you," I assure her. "When you get home, you can wake up Grandpa from his nap and tell him all about it."
"Step away from the couch," my wife warns. "You're going with us."
So we drive to the mall, where I spend several hours trying not to appear too suspicious as the only man standing around in shops filled with little girls trying on rado replica watches clothes. After which we go to a restaurant, where the special of the day is arugula.
"Now let's get manicures," my granddaughter exclaims.
"Great idea," I agree. "While you two do that, I'll try to recharge my testosterone. Somewhere in this mall there must be a bar where they have guys beating each other up on television."
"No you don't," my wife informs me. "She wants someone to get a manicure with her and it can't be me, because I just got my nails done on Wednesday."
The next thing I know, my fingers and I are sitting side-by side with my granddaughter in a shop where the air reeks of estrogen and nail polish. While she gets her nails painted blue, a manicurist who is no happier to see me than I am to be there digs through several years of cuticle buildup with a sharp tool until she finally strikes blood.
"She cut me," I complain to my wife.
"Cowboy up," she replies. "There's no crying in manicures."
Once the bleeding has stopped, the manicurist asks what color nail polish I want. After establishing that there is no such shade as Macho Pink, my wife suggests that I just have my nails buffed.
As we drive Ferragamo Shoes home from the mall, I add up the events of the afternoon.
One dress complete with sparkle-encrusted flip-flops and a plastic tiara ... $64.
Lunch that only a rabbit would enjoy ... $40.
Two manicures, plus a liter of blood ... $80.
Admission to the Grandfathers' Hall of Fame ... priceless.
Contact D.L. Stewart at dlstew_ .
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