A Dad Walks Into A Thrift Store

I do not enjoy thrift store shopping.

I feel really bad saying that, because my wife loves thrift store shopping. I love my wife, and I feel like I am at least supposed to tolerate what she loves as a supportive husband. I also see the benefit of thrift store shopping! It is like a treasure hunt; you never know what amazing thing you will find in the middle of all of the second hand socks, shirts, and furniture that looks as old as your parents! But I still do not enjoy thrift store shopping.

Maybe it has less to do with the thrift store itself and more to do with my role in the shopping spree. You see, I am a dad. I have three young children and most of the time they are truly adorable, wonderful little people but the moment they set foot into a thrift store they become rabid animals. And guess who gets to make sure those rabid animals don’t run amok or break anything that was likely already broken anyway? That’s right… Zookeeper Dad.

There is only one place in the entire thrift store that children actually enjoy: The broken toy section. The broken toy section is almost always on the back wall of the store and is never properly organized. Toy are strewn all over the walkway and there is always at least 2 rideable toys. My children make a beeline for the broken toy section.

As I said earlier, my children are typically wonderful little people, but something comes out of them when surrounded by second hand toys. One of my children will have the compulsion to pull out every toy that is already not on the ground, the other one will want to ride every little bike or tricycle and then get upset because it doesn't work, my final child will find the need to lick things. Nothing tastes better than the box of an old board game!

The worst part about my kids playing in the broken toy section is the judgmental stares that I get from the other, older shoppers. For some reason, some of the shoppers find the need to walk through my children’s play time, even though there is nothing of interest to them anywhere nearby. I always get one of two reactions from these older shoppers:

I either get a sympathetic smile and the comment, “Enjoy them while they are young, they grow up so fast!”

Or I get a scowl and death stare that pretty much is saying, “How dare you and your children ruin my shopping experience at my local thrift store!”

To both of these reactions, I would like to say, “Mind your own business, Karen!” But I am a civil person, living in a polite society; so instead I just smile and pretend that everything is normal when deep down in my heart I know that everything is not normal at all.

Did I mention that the toys are all broken in this section? Because they are. What kind of monster donates puzzles with missing pieces or a tricycle with a missing wheel? Who donates baby toys that look like they have been in a moldy, dirty shack for 30 years? My children notice these deficiencies in these broken toys. Guess who gets blamed for their shortcomings? Dear old dad!

Do you know what else dad gets blamed for? All the toys that are strewn on the floor. The toys were like that before my kids ever got there and they will be that way long after. But everybody needs for somebody to be the villain. In this moment, I take on the mantle of villainy.

Have you ever noticed that the one section that dad would be most interested in is often clear on the other side of the store? Yes, the books. I love books, I love reading. But if I so much as try to even glance over at the books I am wasting precious valuable time that could be spent playing with deficient, broken toys. How dare I! My only hopes is that those books are all about canning and home decor instead of things I am actually interested in.

Where is my wife in all of this? Well, she is shopping! Of course she is, someone actually has to do the shopping while we are at the thrift store. My wife treats thrift store shopping seriously. She truly treats it like a treasure hunt. I’ve never been on a real treasure hunt, but based on my experiences at thrift stores I imagine that they are slow, tedious, and not adventurous at all. I actually spy on my wife as she checks out the aisles at the thrift store. I really did not know that a person needed to check every single item in every single aisle! And then, just to be sure she didn’t miss out on any treasures, she typically goes and checks out every aisle AGAIN! All the while, my children are acting like rabid baboons on the night of a full moon.

I cannot complain though (even though this whole article is me doing just that…) because at the end of the shopping trip, my wife typically finds something that makes her happy and my kids had a fun time. And my wife and kids being happy is something that makes me happy. As we all walk out of the thrift store together, we all have smiles on our faces because we all ultimately got what we wanted. But I will still use this experience as leverage to get Chipotle for lunch on the way home.