Black Friday

We’ve never been Black Friday shoppers. Well, my husband did convince me to go one year—for a $20 DVD player. He woke me up, drove us to the store, saw the crowd in the store, and stayed outside while I waited in line to pay. Then we went home. Haven’t attempted it since.
But this year my kids decided they needed to experience Black Friday in its truest form. “More power to you,” we said as we went to bed. They went to Walmart.
They arrived at 11:30 in search of the $3 appliances for daughter’s upcoming move to a campus apartment. Not one in sight. What they did see were women stacking their carts with movies (heedless of titles), crockpots, and anything else they could find on sale. Apparently right before they arrived there was even a brawl over Wii games that resulted in police and ambulance presence.
So after bombing out at Walmart, you’d think they’d have learned their lesson and come home to their warm beds. (Did I mention it was in the 30s that night?) But no. Instead, they came home for blankets and chairs and got in line at the sporting goods store. After all, the first 85 people would receive a gift card valued anywhere from $10-$500. As you can imagine, visions of sporting goods danced in their heads. Five hours later they finally arrived home and dropped into bed, having spent their $10 gift cards. (The $500 one went to the person four behind them.)
My daughter loved the rush of it all. My older son (who is very much like his father) hated it but laughed and refused to admit that (after all, he got free headphones out of the deal). But my younger son didn’t mince words. When we asked if it was worth it—the cold and the waiting and the up-all-night—he promptly answered “I’m not doing that again.”