The Pink Purse

Our two year old, JD, has found a new object upon which to bequeath his affection, a new item to embrace and hold tight at all times, to guard as if it held the elixir of life. So, what is this newfound source of joy in the young boy’s life?

His sister’s pink Hello Kitty purse.

In the past you might see him carrying around his beloved blue elephant blankie, but now, with the addition of his purse (or man-bag), he can now stuff the blanket into his pink bag and carry it around with him. It’s not that big of a deal to us, and we think little to nothing of him hauling it around at home or at church, but a week or so ago I found myself considering this with thoughts that later bothered me a great deal.

As a rule, I avoid our local Wal-Mart like the plague, preferring anything to the crowded, soulless aisles of the nearby megastore, but for some reason I don’t readily recall, I found myself in a situation where I had to step into the unsavory retail giant. Because of Diana’s work schedule, I was also carting along the kids, another undesirable aspect to our Saturday outing. We parked the car and began to get out when I noticed that my son was gripping the purse, fully intending to carry it in with him. To a Wal-Mart, in Southaven, Mississippi. As you can imagine, it’s not exactly a hotbed of progressive thought. Suddenly thoughts flooded my head. Would we be accosted by hordes of Baptists with crazed eyes, swinging their Bibles like swords? Would I be beaten senseless by camo-wearing, Skoal-dipping, rebel flag-waving Mississippi rednecks?

Granted, none of these attacks would probably take place, but the seed was planted in my brain, so I quickly talked JD out of carrying the purse, and went on with our shopping.

The next morning I was relating this story to some people at church and when I came to end, saying something along the lines of, “I told him, ‘I don’t think it’s in either of our best interests for you to take this into Wal-Mart. In Southaven, Mississippi.’”

One of the ladies looked at me quizzically and asked one simple question, “Why?”

And I had to think about that. Why? I’m not embarrassed. It doesn’t bother me. I guess it’s because I’m anticipating a negative reaction from others and I don’t want to deal with it, but that’s really not a good reason. Not at all.

So, from now on he can carry it anywhere he wants. If other people don’t like it, they need to grow up.

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