"I have a dollar. That's all I have. I have a dollar."

I was at the Dollar Tree in Hillsborough yesterday, which is not among the busiest of shopping centers since the Wal-Mart moved out. (Donnie once tried to sell me the idea of opening a drink-vending business out of that still-empty space. It was born of the trouble of not always finding all the rarer sodas like Dr. Brown's Black Cherry and Cheerwine at Sam's or Costco, and my general inability to keep us stocked with any kind of consistency. I'm glad that idea died a quick death along with the one of me becoming a used-car dealer.) Anyway, there's only ever one person working because it is usually pretty slow. But there was this family in line two people in front of me, comprised of a grandma, a dad, and 3 kids. The youngest little girl - maybe 4ish - was holding up the line because she couldn't find anything she wanted. I gathered, once she came running up with her older sister, who shouted, "Wait! Campbell found something she wants!" that Granny was buying them all a present at Dollar Tree. There was no mom around, so obviously I don't know exactly the nucleosity of the family, but Dads generally have a higher tolerance for the kind of cheap Chinese crap that Granny will buy you at Dollar Tree, even if it is quickly discarded behind the couch once the extremely short novelty wears off. I didn't see what the boy or the older girl got, but Campbell got a sad little clear plastic case with a couple of sad hairbrushes inside, maybe a mirror. Everything was purple. (P.S. Older girl endeared herself to me forever by removing the purple brushes from the plastic bag and telling the confused dude, "We don't need a bag" in that semi-haughty voice tween girls are best at.)

As for me, I had this wonderful flashback of trips to Kmart on 13th East or thereabouts with Grandma M, because she did the same thing when she watched us for the afternoon. In some ways, it seems crazy that she subjected herself to 3 or 4 of us, all pretty young, hopping in her blue '72 Pontiac LeMans with domed hubcaps (a car that became mine in college - awww, Betty), where I doubt there was a carseat or a seatbelt in use, and schlepping us up to Kmart to buy us a little present. I don't know if she steered us away from toys and into the school supplies aisle or if we were just naturally nerdy enough to go there first, but Bean and I at least were complete novelty eraser junkies, like I remember a whole collection, unused as erasers, that I would carry around in a clear vinyl bag. They were shaped and smelled like fruits or chocolate or contained glitter; my prized one was an ice cream cone whose white eraser looked like soft serve and rested in a plastic pointed cone.

This one afternoon I remember Grandma M buying for me a white eraser that smelled like a Tootsie Roll (ew) and was encased in some kind of cardboard sleeve that made it look like a giant Tootsie Roll and it was my favorite eraser by a lot for a long time. Somehow I don't think that little Miss Campell will be saying the same thing about her purple brush.