The Impulse Buy

Today after morning housework, Brock and I decided to head down to a rope swing in Mona we've heard about. Unfortunately, every high schooler in the county had the same idea. Dozens of tools and skanks were gathered together; all of them trying to show off and look sexy--their hormonal bravado playing to the tune of cranked-up pop music and the piercing squeals of girls bound for a lifetime of bad tips and Barbicide at Fantastic Sams.

Needless to say, Brock and I forewent the rope swing and headed home. The afternoon wasn't a total loss however, as we had quite the adventure finding the place, and Brock bought me Cheetos at a Chevron after I convinced him it was a pregnancy craving. (Hey, there's always a chance, RIGHT?! Impermeable logic, I know.)

On the way home, we stopped at South Ridge farms in Santaquin--a place I've been wanting to visit for a long time. It's this cute, big red barn on the side of the highway with "world famous" ice cream, shakes, and fresh fruit. The raspberry shake I had was indeed delicious, Brock said his apple pie was divine, and we bought cherries that looked plump enough to burst right there on the spot.

But the best part about the day, was the little surprise I got in the middle of all this. As we were walking out the door of the barn, I noticed this little ceramic honey container. It was in the shape of a beehive, and it had one of those cute honey wands. I wanted it as soon as I saw it. I flipped over the price tag: $10. Eeesh. I knew Brock would never go for it. But I decided to bug him about it anyway, because sometimes I go up to him with random impulse buys just to see his eyes roll and for him to tell me no.

I meekly approached Brock at the check-out counter. He was buying the bag of cherries.

"Honey!" I said. (No pun intended.) "Isn't this cute? Look! It even has one of those neat little honey dipper things!"

Brock examined the item in question. "How much is it?"

I conjured up the best puppy dog eyes I could and sheepishly informed him of the price.

"You know what?" he said, "That is cute. Put it on the counter."

Huh?

Yes? As in, y-e-s? As in, the opposite of no? As in, si? Oui? Ja? I couldn't believe it! I even gave him the opportunity to renege on this moment of glorious fiscal irresponsibility, saying "No, honey, it's okay, I don't really need it . . . " but Brock insisted.

I don't know why, but I got the warm fuzzies all of a sudden. It wasn't the fact that he bought it, but the fact that he bought it out of the pure desire to make me happy. I mean, it's not like I need him to buy me things in order for that to happen (although I'd be lying if I said it didn't hurt!). He could've said no and I would have been perfectly fine with it. Heck, I was expecting it. But he didn't.

On the way home, I expressed to him my surprise.

"Y'know," he said. "I hate how there's always too much honey that comes out when I'm trying to make a sandwich. So I was sold on the dipper thing." (This comment brought the romanticism of his gesture down a couple notches.) "Plus, I know that that's one of those trinkets that we'll have in our house for like fifty years, and it'll always remind us of our little date to the red barn." (Notches regained.)

(The reality is that, because it's ceramic, one of our kids is bound to break it into a million pieces, but whatever. It was a nice thought.)

Brock tells me he loves me multiple times a day, but sometimes it's the little, stupid stuff--like Cheetos and honey wands--that let me know he really means it.