the snowsuit
I really must go back and tell you about . . . duhn duhn duh . . . the snowsuit. I've most certainly kept you in suspense far too long.
Remember last winter when there was no snow, but it was still cold enough to freeze puddles and require kids to wear winter clothing? Good, we're caught up.
Jordan is really hard on outerwear. Last year she destroyed a pair of skates, lost various mitts and tuques, shredded her first pair of winter boots and left her snowsuit looking like swiss cheese. The boots and snowsuit were done before Christmas. I made her wear the snowsuit for the rest of winter anyway and the boots I replaced after Christmas.
It's amazing that a six year old child can ruin a rather expensive snowsuit in a few short months. I blame mother nature. Mother nature thought it would be funny to make it cold and icy out without actually giving us snow. Of course children want to run and drop to their knees or tummy on frozen puddles and slide to the other side. Of course when the edge of the puddle just turns back to cement it's going to be hard on ski pants. Of course she'd rip multiple holes in each knee through all three layers of ski pant, as well as rip out the pockets on her jacket due to the stuff she had crammed in them rubbing along the cement sidewalks at school. Imagine my joy. I don't even know how she managed to lose the plastic rings that attached the straps on her ski pants to the pants in the front. The suit was done. There was no way I'd be able to hand it down to Elliot, never mind trying to get another year out of it for Jordan.
Until I remembered - Sears has Kidvantage. Kidvantage happily states that if a child wears out a garment before she grows out of it they'll either fix or replace it.
I took the snowsuit to Sears in the spring. The sales clerk looked at it and figured they'd replace it, but there were no snowsuits in at the time, so I was to come back in the fall.
I came back near the end of summer. There were no snowsuits out yet, despite hearing that other places were already selling out. This last weekend we went into Winnipeg to have family pictures taken, so I grabbed the snowsuit and figured that the time had come to switch the ratty thing in.
It was out last stop before heading home. A piece of cake, I was sure. I took the snowsuit to the service desk. The clerk looked at it. I gave her the receipt.
"Well, the ladies in repair will have to look at it first to see if it will be fixable. I'll call them," she said.
Of course. Well, whatever. A few minutes later she came back and told me there was no answer downstairs. I told her what I had been told in the spring, that the suit could be replaced, but I needed to bring it back when there were snowsuits to actually replace it with. She repeated that it would still need to be looked at by someone in repairs and wanted to know if I had other shopping to do. She also said that they might be busy downstairs, and wondered how soon I'd want it back.
Sigh.
I told her I was from out of town and coming back would be a nuisance. I really just wanted a new snowsuit. I'd probably have been able to make do with the jacket, but the ski pants were in tatters. Even if they were to patch them up I'd not have made my kid wear them to school.
The phone rang. It was a woman from downstairs. They would look at the snowsuit. The clerk asked me to follow her down to the repair shop (see how much fun this is??) so we could see if the suit could be fixed and how long it would take.
The woman downstairs looked at the jacket and the holes in the pocket. She said to Jordan (who was with me) "this is from putting things in the pocket and having them rub." Nice, guilt a seven year old. The two women looked indecisively at the jacket and ski pants. I finally piped up and said "I know that you could probably patch the ski pants, but since all the liner is torn up as well I don't think it would be very warm. She's outside on and off all winter at school." The ladies looked at each other, and the clerk said to the repair woman that I was from out of town, and the suit was in pretty rough shape, so maybe they should just replace it?
Hallelujah.
We finally had the green light to go and pick out another snowsuit of similar value and swap it with the old one.
Now is when the real fun begins.
There is a very small window between when snowsuits come out and when they're horribly picked over. Part of the deal is that I needed to find a snowsuit in the same size as the one I had brought back. Obviously they're not going to let me pick a bigger one.
There wasn't a lot of selection, and of what there was there wasn't a lot of proper sizes.
I found the few small that were left. Jordan also found one. I begged her to look at the ones that I had found. They weren't special, but they were much better than the ugliest snowsuit I had ever seen in my life that Jordan picked.
Ugly. Really really ugly. I told her it was ugly. She said it wasn't. I told her my eyes were bleeding, she tilted her head to the side and rolled her eyes. I told her to try it on, hoping it wouldn't fit, she put it on. It did. I told her that I might just have to put my foot down because there was no way I would look at that ugly thing all winter. She insisted it was beautiful. I phoned Steven, who was wandering around Canadian Tire and told him that Jordan had picked out the world's ugliest snowsuit and it was burning my eyes, and he told me just to tell her no and pick something else. I sorted through racks and pulled out other snowsuits. I told her to pick one. She said "no" and proceeded to make sure I couldn't hang her snowsuit back up without her knowing about it.
I took a picture of the snowsuit and texted it to a friend to get a second opinion. I figured if Jordan heard that other people thought it was sinfully unattractive that she'd think twice about buying the offending thing. My friend said it was cute. I phoned her to make fun of her and make her take it back. She stuck to her guns. With supreme sadness in my heart I told Jordan she could have the ugliest snowsuit ever.
"Do you really think it's ugly?" she asked, her head tilted and the look on her face.
"Yes, Jordan, I do. It's literally burning my eyes. It is the ugliest thing in the world."
She laughed and hugged her new ugly prize.
We paid the small difference for the snowsuit and left the mall, Jordan happily carrying the shopping bag.
"Well, Jordan," I said. "You're pretty lucky I let you get the one you wanted. Especially since it's just so ugly," I said.
"Oh Mommy," she replied, with all the wisdom her seven long years could muster, "You'll get used to it."
Jordan is really hard on outerwear. Last year she destroyed a pair of skates, lost various mitts and tuques, shredded her first pair of winter boots and left her snowsuit looking like swiss cheese. The boots and snowsuit were done before Christmas. I made her wear the snowsuit for the rest of winter anyway and the boots I replaced after Christmas.
It's amazing that a six year old child can ruin a rather expensive snowsuit in a few short months. I blame mother nature. Mother nature thought it would be funny to make it cold and icy out without actually giving us snow. Of course children want to run and drop to their knees or tummy on frozen puddles and slide to the other side. Of course when the edge of the puddle just turns back to cement it's going to be hard on ski pants. Of course she'd rip multiple holes in each knee through all three layers of ski pant, as well as rip out the pockets on her jacket due to the stuff she had crammed in them rubbing along the cement sidewalks at school. Imagine my joy. I don't even know how she managed to lose the plastic rings that attached the straps on her ski pants to the pants in the front. The suit was done. There was no way I'd be able to hand it down to Elliot, never mind trying to get another year out of it for Jordan.
Until I remembered - Sears has Kidvantage. Kidvantage happily states that if a child wears out a garment before she grows out of it they'll either fix or replace it.
I took the snowsuit to Sears in the spring. The sales clerk looked at it and figured they'd replace it, but there were no snowsuits in at the time, so I was to come back in the fall.
I came back near the end of summer. There were no snowsuits out yet, despite hearing that other places were already selling out. This last weekend we went into Winnipeg to have family pictures taken, so I grabbed the snowsuit and figured that the time had come to switch the ratty thing in.
It was out last stop before heading home. A piece of cake, I was sure. I took the snowsuit to the service desk. The clerk looked at it. I gave her the receipt.
"Well, the ladies in repair will have to look at it first to see if it will be fixable. I'll call them," she said.
Of course. Well, whatever. A few minutes later she came back and told me there was no answer downstairs. I told her what I had been told in the spring, that the suit could be replaced, but I needed to bring it back when there were snowsuits to actually replace it with. She repeated that it would still need to be looked at by someone in repairs and wanted to know if I had other shopping to do. She also said that they might be busy downstairs, and wondered how soon I'd want it back.
Sigh.
I told her I was from out of town and coming back would be a nuisance. I really just wanted a new snowsuit. I'd probably have been able to make do with the jacket, but the ski pants were in tatters. Even if they were to patch them up I'd not have made my kid wear them to school.
The phone rang. It was a woman from downstairs. They would look at the snowsuit. The clerk asked me to follow her down to the repair shop (see how much fun this is??) so we could see if the suit could be fixed and how long it would take.
The woman downstairs looked at the jacket and the holes in the pocket. She said to Jordan (who was with me) "this is from putting things in the pocket and having them rub." Nice, guilt a seven year old. The two women looked indecisively at the jacket and ski pants. I finally piped up and said "I know that you could probably patch the ski pants, but since all the liner is torn up as well I don't think it would be very warm. She's outside on and off all winter at school." The ladies looked at each other, and the clerk said to the repair woman that I was from out of town, and the suit was in pretty rough shape, so maybe they should just replace it?
Hallelujah.
We finally had the green light to go and pick out another snowsuit of similar value and swap it with the old one.
Now is when the real fun begins.
There is a very small window between when snowsuits come out and when they're horribly picked over. Part of the deal is that I needed to find a snowsuit in the same size as the one I had brought back. Obviously they're not going to let me pick a bigger one.
There wasn't a lot of selection, and of what there was there wasn't a lot of proper sizes.
I found the few small that were left. Jordan also found one. I begged her to look at the ones that I had found. They weren't special, but they were much better than the ugliest snowsuit I had ever seen in my life that Jordan picked.
Ugly. Really really ugly. I told her it was ugly. She said it wasn't. I told her my eyes were bleeding, she tilted her head to the side and rolled her eyes. I told her to try it on, hoping it wouldn't fit, she put it on. It did. I told her that I might just have to put my foot down because there was no way I would look at that ugly thing all winter. She insisted it was beautiful. I phoned Steven, who was wandering around Canadian Tire and told him that Jordan had picked out the world's ugliest snowsuit and it was burning my eyes, and he told me just to tell her no and pick something else. I sorted through racks and pulled out other snowsuits. I told her to pick one. She said "no" and proceeded to make sure I couldn't hang her snowsuit back up without her knowing about it.
I took a picture of the snowsuit and texted it to a friend to get a second opinion. I figured if Jordan heard that other people thought it was sinfully unattractive that she'd think twice about buying the offending thing. My friend said it was cute. I phoned her to make fun of her and make her take it back. She stuck to her guns. With supreme sadness in my heart I told Jordan she could have the ugliest snowsuit ever.
"Do you really think it's ugly?" she asked, her head tilted and the look on her face.
"Yes, Jordan, I do. It's literally burning my eyes. It is the ugliest thing in the world."
She laughed and hugged her new ugly prize.
We paid the small difference for the snowsuit and left the mall, Jordan happily carrying the shopping bag.
"Well, Jordan," I said. "You're pretty lucky I let you get the one you wanted. Especially since it's just so ugly," I said.
"Oh Mommy," she replied, with all the wisdom her seven long years could muster, "You'll get used to it."
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