On our recent outing to the Island of Misfit Toys, otherwise known as The Mall, I noticed that the fabled “Everything for $13.99 or Less Sale” was going on at Gymboree.

And then I did the “raise the roof” gesture.  Not even to be ironic, or funny.  (I would have been neither, by the way.)  I was just that excited.  And just that much of a loser. On a related note, I recently received my invitation to the Dorkheimer Mom Hall of Fame.  I’m thinking about wearing my new high-waisted jeans to the induction ceremony.

When I was a younger lass, upon entering a store in the midst of a sale, I would politely peruse the new merchandise up front, biding my time until I could get to the Tootsie Roll Center of the store; THE SALE RACK.  Now, I just don’t give a shit.  I can elbow my way to clearance rack like a pro.  You know when things get really cheap and they throw all the crap on sale in a bin?  Oh, yeah.  I am one of those desperate ladies who could care less how ridiculous she looks with a $3.99 Christmas dress over her shoulder in the middle of August.  Bring it, bitches.  I am the queen of the sale rack.

I am pretty particular in what the wee ones wear when we are out and about.  But I am also the stingiest SOB on the planet (okay, second; my dad passed his mad skills on to me, and I have yet to userp the throne).  I can look like shit, but my kids better be well coiffed and clean before I take them out in public.  Baby Gap, Gymboree, oh how I adore thee.  Wal-Mart?  Ah, no, thanks.  You’ve been picked last for kickball yet again.  Better luck next time; and maybe you should see someone about that acne problem.  So when the annual Gymboree sale comes around, I completely lose it.  As in “raising the roof” in the middle of the mall; much to the dismay of my husband.

Here is the thing about Gymboree… Who on god’s green earth pays $23.99 for a pair of children’s pajamas?  They are the nicest ones that I have had on Finn, and they do hold up better than any of the other ones I’ve bought.  But twenty-four dollars?  Are those people insane??  I buy them on sale; Finn doesn’t give a rat’s-ass if he is wearing Halloween pajamas in January.  This is the same kid who would proudly rock neon orange and green sparkly spider socks with his Crocs if I allowed it (don’t even get me started on hideous, repulsive Crocs.  Oh, the humanity.)  Now summer has set in, and I gotta go stock up on shorty jammies.

Or do I?

Up, up, down, down, left, right, left, right, B, A, start.  Oh, a clever loophole…

WARNING:  The following image may be disturbing to younger readers.

Oh, no she didn’t.  Oh yes, I did.  I just cut up seventy-five dollars worth of pajamas.

I totally braced myself for impending Armageddon once Finn had seen what I had done to his precious batty jammies.  A few months ago, I cut the faux layered, long sleeve arms off his favorite Spiderman t-shirt, and all fucking holy hell broke loose.  Those crack-pots protesting military funerals had a better leg to stand on than Finn and his newly shorn Spiderman shirt.  This kid went bat-shit insane for forty-five minutes.  He made Mel Gibson look like he just popped a handful of Xanax.

I braced myself for it… And all I got was a “Oh, wow.  That’s cool, Mom.”

Where is this child when it is time for bed?  Nevermind.  I’ll take it wherever I can get it.

Once Gymboree gets wind of the desecration of the sacred Gymmies (Trademark, I’m sure), I am positive that my Gymboree Rewards card will be revoked, and they’ll probably burn my Gymbucks then next time I stop in.  If I thought that lady who works there had a stick up her ass before, she’s gonna give me a real dressing down now.  And seriously, woman?  How miserable can your job be?  Come to think of it, I would probably be pretty cranky if I had to listen to a loop of Yo Gabba Gabba and Dinosaur Train clips forty hours a week…

Wait a minute.  I do.  That explains a lot.