As a grandmother, it was not my finest hour.
I had five with me, three in elementary school, one still in night-time pull-ups and his brother in diapers.
It should have been a piece of cake, however. I’ve raised a large crew and am so used to wrangling all the grandkids over the years, this small squad should have been a breeze to handle.
But all bets are off when we go into the Dollar Tree, a kids’ wonderland and a guardian’s nightmare.
Too many short aisles where kids can quickly disappear. Too many temptations hanging too low to the ground. And all so cheap youngsters know how easy it is to get adults to falter and give in.
But I know all that every time I step into the store, which is why I always am more than a little anxious from the beginning.
I explain all that as a way of setting the stage for our most recent excursion, which was no different than the dozens of other times we’ve ventured through these discount doors.
Until we hit the checkout counter. Until the clerk had rung up about $40 worth of merchandise that not only included a few holiday cards and ice cream bars, but also a colorful array of fidgets, slime, sour candy and Matchbox cars.
It was when the last of those miniature vehicles was sliding over the scanner that I suddenly realized I had no way to pay. I had forgotten to grab the credit card in the quick stopover from the park to the store.
Embarrassing, yes. Even more so when I realized that as I stood there frozen yet frantic, the 3-year-old had torn into one of the toy’s packages that the clerk had handed him. And the toddler’s face was already half-covered in cookies ‘n’ cream.
“You don’t have any money?”
The older kiddos, clutching their prizes, looked at me as if I’d sprouted horns. After all, aren’t grown-ups permanently attached to those plastic cards that take care of all their earthly desires?
My thoughts raced. Do I offer to go back to the house and return with the means to pay for items already opened and/or half-eaten?
Can I leave a couple older kids as collateral?
The clerk stared. The line grew longer. The seconds seemed like hours.
And that’s when the woman right behind me spoke up.
I quickly noticed she had quite a lot of items in her own cart, but her voice carried no hint of frustration or impatience, nor even amusement.
“Please,” she told the cashier. “Put it all on my bill.”
Of course I protested. It was bad enough I was buying so many “non-essentials” (i.e. junk). But to ask a stranger to pay for all of it? Out of the question.
She persisted.
“How can you disappoint those little faces?” she asked me, referring to my five charges who were counting on me to make this problem go away ASAP.
“Besides,” the woman continued softly, “I try to do something for another person every day … It’s what this world needs now more than ever.
“Today,” she said with a smile, “you are that person.”
And so I was, ever so grateful, of course, but also embarrassed.
Especially when I realized that, in all the commotion, the 2-year-old had disappeared.
Like I said, not my finest grandma hour.
Which also helps explain that, after I located the runaway – two aisles over, three new suckers in hand – and calmed my racing heart, I failed to get a name or learn more about this Dollar Tree Angel.
Everyone has a story worth hearing. I have a feeling hers was special. Unfortunately, by the time I had collected my grandkids – and my wits – she was gone.
But her words have not only stayed with me, they are worth passing along, especially this holiday season.
An act of kindness once a day. Discount advice that is truly priceless.
dcrosby@tribpub.com
