Dad’s delicious recipe for catastrophe:
3 girls ages 7, 5 and 1
1 filthy minivan with balding tires
All occupants of vehicle must be tired and hungry
Add in 3 impatient drivers behind you at a drive-through window
Bring to boil, stir and enjoy!
A bank drive-through? Yes, a bank. We actually had enough money at one time to warrant driving to the bank and making a deposit. It was a fairly unfamiliar ritual to me, but I would never admit that it’s just not manly.
My older daughters have memories that would shame a nerdy elephant where sugar is at stake. For our little angels, the sole purpose of those pneumatic bank tubes and germ-infested trap-door capsules is candy delivery. Dum Dum delivery, to be precise.
Kids: “Dad, we want suckers! I want pink!” Kids: “Please Dad? Dad? Dad? Dad? Get us a sucker OK?” Me: “Quiet please. I’m trying to talk to the teller here!” Wife: “Honey, make sure and get them the Dum Dum suckers. They would like one grape, one orange, one pineapple and get one rum flavor for me, OK Sweetie?”
There I sat, my hands on the steering wheel in a sweaty death grip, the teller looking at me as though I was being weighed, measured and found wanting. I didn’t recognize this teller. He was obviously new. When did this bank start allowing male tellers wasn’t that illegal?
The last time I was here (had it been so long ago?) I remembered a nice, attractive young blonde’s flirtatious smile.
Nice blonde teller: “Thanks for your business today it looks like you have little ones with you. How many suckers would you like?” Me: “Oh! Ummm, thanks. Uh, can we have three? One blue, one pink and one green?” Nice blonde teller: “Sure, Sweetie! Here you go have a great day and come again soon!” Me: “Aww shucks. Thanks!”
Yes, I had fond memories of previous visits to this bank memories that quickly fled before the dull gaze of the pimpled dude staring at me impatiently.
Stupid kid teller: “Will there be anything else?” He was eyeing the growing lineup of cars behind me. Me: “Um yeah, I have some kids with me today .” Stupid kid teller: Blank stare. Wife: “Go ahead tell him we want the Dum Dum suckers. You remember the flavors?”
What was happening? Wouldn’t it be obvious to the dumbest of creatures that we needed candy? I give the bank MY money for safekeeping and now I’m forced to grovel for Dum Dums?
Me: “Yeah, I’d like four Dumbbell Popsicles please .”
Wait, that didn’t sound right. “Dumbbell Popsicles?” My wife’s startled gasp and subsequent muffled laughter drove me further into my blundering madness.
Stupid kid teller: “Dumbbell Popsicles?”
I didn’t like his tone.
Me: “No, I meant uh, we’d like four Dum Dum icicles!” Stupid kid teller: “Dum Dum icicles? We don’t have any of those either.” His confusion was palpable.
My wife’s "silent" laughter was beginning to shake the entire minivan. The kids had perplexed looks on their faces.
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