Reel Around the Sun Chips



"Hear my cry in my hungering search for you
Taste my breath on the wind
See the sky as it mirrors my colors
Hints and whispers begin

I am living to nourish you, cherish you
I am pulsing the blood in your veins
Feel the magic and power of surrender to life"

Reel Around the Sun

Riverdance on Broadway

The Sun Chips sat, discarded next to the Stop & Shop bag on the bench in mudroom, as if they had been considered, but rejected at the last minute as too big or too much of a nuisance to carry.  I noticed them early this morning when I returned from dropping off the princess for the much anticipated 8th Grade Trip to D.C.  These were the very same Sun Chips that I had searched for in three stores yesterday, all because I asked the very stupid question, "Is there any snack or something you want to bring on the trip?"  "Yes, mom, can you get me a big bag of PLAAAIIIN Sun Chips?"

So, Sun Chips went on the list, along with the other odd bits that I had to locate and purchase -- stupid, little things that we need to go to Fwance; you know, because they don't have stores there or something.  Yet, for some reason, these small purchases -- batteries, shampoo, travel size bottles -- eluded all of my efforts to buy them at the same time when I went shopping earlier this week. 

So, I reeled around on my search for the odd bits and apparently rare big bag of PLAAAIIIN Sun Chips -- to Costco (only big box of small bags), Riteaid (small bag), Target (no PLAAAIIIN) .  I found Sun-Dried Tomato Sun Chips, French Onion Sun Chips, Some Other Flavor Sun Chips, until, at last, I located them at Stop & Shop -- though not at eye level, I might add.  They tuck the big bag of PLAAAIIIN Sun Chips up high, as if on an altar to the snack food gods, so you really have to look for them.  I get them home, tell the princess that I had procured her one snack wish for the D.C. trip, put them on the bench in the mudroom so she could grab them on the way out the door . . .

On the way to school this morning, it was quiet in the car.  The princess spoke, "Admit it, you're happy I'll be gone tonight."  I didn't say anything.  I had been thinking (at that very moment) that a break from the princess might be a good thing.  "That was weird," I thought to myself.  I still didn't say anything.  We got to school; the princess left for a sure to be cold, wet D.C. trip.  "I have extra socks.  Don't worry."

Now, I have to wonder whether the princess offered up her remark because she knew she had left the chips and felt bad about it?  Or, whether she knew I would find them and just sigh -- you know, that mom sigh -- and she was glad not to hear it?  Or, whether she knew (as I did in that weird moment of synchronicity) that sometimes it is good to get away from those we care the most about, even just for a little while, and that I didn't need to worry about her getting sick in the rain in D.C. because she has extra socks?
Later that morning, I mentioned to my older son that the princess did not take the big bag of PLAAAIIIN Sun Chips to D.C., he said, "It's not like it's a waste, mom.  I'll have them." 

Reel around the son's chips?