Thursday, August 10, 2006

Fool Me Once, Sham on You

Here's a funny little incident that happened the other day. My mom had gone uptown to run a few errands. I knew she had gone grocery shopping, so when I heard her pull into the garage, I went out to help her bring the groceries in. When she popped the trunk of the car, my eyes widened in horror as I saw the white bags with the red bull's-eyes all over them. She had gone to Target. Without me. Oh, the humanity!

Now, there is a running joke with my family and friends about how much of a Target fan I am. Wal-Mart can kiss my grits for all I care; I am all about the "see Spot save." So, the fact that Mom had left without telling me she was going to Target was shocking. I fumbled through my wallet to make sure that my $70.00 Target gift card was still intact. Of course, I didn't think Mom would steal it, but, then again, I hadn't thought she'd go to Target without me, either.

It turns out it wasn't as bad as I'd thought. Mom may not have taken me, but the majority of the stuff she had bought was for me. That's right. It was college stuff. And not the cool stuff that I'd want to buy myself: I'm talking sheets, laundry baskets, mattress pads, etc. So I calmed down a little.

We unloaded the car and went inside the house. As we went through all the stuff she had bought, I came across a package labeled "pillow sham." The following conversation was rather funny, mostly because of the quick timing that is a signature of any conversations between my mom and me. So I'll write it, as best as I can remember, in script form.

Me: What's this?

Mom: It's a pillow sham.

Me: What's a pillow sham?

Mom: It goes over your pillow.

Me: So it's the same thing as a pillowcase? Why don't they just call it a pillowcase, then?

Mom: Because it's not a pillowcase. It's a pillow sham.

Me: But it covers a pillow. Like a pillowcase. (I look at the package closer.) It's denim. Won't that be a little uncomfortable?

Mom: But it matches your comforter.

Me: It didn't have to be denim to match my comforter. Blue would've been fine.

Mom: Well, you're not supposed to sleep on it, anyway.

Me: But it's a pillowcase.

Mom: Pillow sham.

Me: Whatever. Wait, what do you mean I'm not supposed to sleep on it?

Mom: It's for decorative purposes.

Me: You mean I'm supposed to take it off every time I go to bed?

Mom: Or just use another pillow.

Me: Then why'd you get it?

Mom: Because it matched your comforter.

Me: (Long, thoughtful pause.) I'm going to college, you know, not trying out for the cover of Better Homes and Gardens.

Mom: (Putting her hands on her hips and wearing her "I know you didn't" face.) Don't get smart with me, boy, or I'll make you work till this house looks like the cover of Better Homes and Gardens!

At that point, I took the pillow sham and placed it neatly on my bed without another word. That's why I love my mom. We talked that night about what a funny conversation that was. She says it should go in my next book. Oh, if only she knew about this blog!