Touching the Butt at Blockbuster

So I just got back from a little errand for a Saturday Night movie from Blockbuster.

I took Big because he took the longest nap on the planet today and we were hoping to do the bait-and-switch with Nine, getting her to bed before him as she was MORE than ready.

Knowing what was in store, I spent at least 3/4 of the drive preparing him for the inevitable onslaught of sugary delectables that would entice, but which would, ultimately be denied.

To be clear: I was not going to buy any candy.

It all started out great. We looked around for movies, ran into a few friends (one of whom hilariously confused me for a different lesbian in one of his ECFE classes --"Didn't you move?" and then analogized with an episode from The Office in which a guy actually marked an Asian woman at a party that he was interested in, in order to not confuse her with the other Asian woman at the party).

We got to the infuriatingly long line, which left too much time to check out all of the glorious sugary goodness that shouted out to us: ME! PICK ME!! ME!

Apparently they shouted out to Big in a louder voice. He started opening a sucker.

Me (panicking slightly): Mr. [Big]. If you open that we will leave immediately. do not open that.

That time it worked. I literally think I said "Thank God" aloud.

Then he moved on to one of those push-up suckers and opened it as quickly as he possibly could and shoved it into his mouth.

I thought to myself F($*&#K. Now I have to follow through. How long can one damn line be? And is this movie WORTH it?

And then remembered why we never take him anywhere.

I grabbed him and in as composed of a voice and demeanor as I could muster, seriously put the candy on the counter (okay, slammed): That's it. We're buying it and you're going to watch me throw it away.

In my head I added: Out of your COLLEGE FUND, MISTER! And that one FRIGGIN dollar would have added up to at LEAST FIVE in this market by the time you'd have been eighteen -- IF, that is, you even GET there at this rate!

He: Screams.

Me, not exactly mortified, but attempting to wait patiently in line as though I don't have a dejected three-foot monster clinging to my knees and yelling BABA! BABA! WHY DID YOU SAY NO, BABA? WHYYYYYYYYY? I DON'T WANT YOU TO SAY NO!!! at the top of his lungs.

Me, incredibly calm, but bracing. Acid beginning to leak out of my stomach lining.

He: But... I'M HUNGRYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!

The gal at the counter looked on understandingly and said that we didn't need to purchase the candy.

Me: Yes.

She: Should I just throw it away?

Me: No.

She checked us out and I walked around the side of the counter. The line was no less long as when we began.

Me, kneeling and in a very low, very serious tone (and I need to be clear here, I did NOT have my fingers wrapped tightly around his upper arm as my mom CERTAINLY would have at this point. See? I am growing up!): [Big], I warned you that we weren't going to have any candy from here. We're going home and having some ice cream. But no candy here. You didn't listen to me and I need to throw this away.

We walked out holding hands.

Me: Anticipating a G&T.

Him: Trusting me a bit more.

At least I hope.