I went to the Salvation Army the other day. I am so crazy. I went to the Salvation Army after we left a Chick-fil-A playdate that ended with my two year old lying on the restaurant floor pretending to sleep (with a smile on his face) while customers stared. How do you get a 33 pound two year old to cooperate and bear weight on his own legs while you are holding another child? (This is a real question. I want to know. How do you get them into the car? I don't get it. I think I may take my stroller everywhere from now on because IT HAS A SEAT BELT that HE MUST OBEY.)
I left the spectacularly failed playdate and suddenly thought that moment would be a brilliant time to check the Salvation Army for a copy of Dr. Seuss's ABC. Clark is obsessed with this page...
(This should be a photo of the page. Google image search is failing me, and our copy of the book is in Clark's room where he is sleeping, so I'll just go ahead and tell you-- it's the "B" page. You know, the"What begins with B? Barber Baby Bubbles and a Bumblebee" page. I might replace these goofy over-explainy sentences with a real picture tomorrow.)
...and I wanted to find an extra copy (to remove the "B" page and hang it at his eye level in his room) like, right that second. I'm impulsive sometimes. Impulsive and... brave.
I don't know if it's like this everywhere, but our Salvation Army is an absolute hoot. It's like a normal thrift store's weird grandfather.
First of all, it's HUGE. The building used to be an Office Max, if that gives you an idea. The clothes and goods are not really organized so much as they are in heaps. Going through them felt a little like sorting through someone else's pack-rat of a grandmother's garage. When I was back in the far corner looking at an old babydoll pram (that I did not end up buying mostly because I couldn't figure out how to get it up to the counter) I was suddenly surrounded out of nowhere by a throng of people and for a fleeting moment was slightly concerned about the possibility of being mugged. (This was a silly thing to fear, as it turned out, everyone was quite kind and chatty.)
The rows were too narrow. Sometimes the merchandise fell on me. Almost everything was under a dollar. It was fantastic.
Oh, and Clark was good. I came away with a huge trash bag (yes, trash bag) full of marvelous stuff (the two photos below are just a sample) and spent under $15.