East Side Cribs

It was 9pm… milk was given, snacks already devoured. It was time for bed. I took Kyan upstairs to get his night nights on and realized to my dismay that we used the last nighttime diaper earlier that day for his nap. Avoiding a guaranteed leakage problem, I put on my shoes, grabbed my keys and told Andrea I’d be back momentarily.
“We have $20 in the bank so don’t go crazy.” She called out as I headed out the door. All I heard was “Go crazy.”

For a Tuesday night, Wal-mart seemed busier than normal. Workers with their train of carts slowly made their way towards the giant store as some cars waited to leave, while others waited to park. Once inside, I made my way towards the back. Past produce, apparel, office supplies, frozen goods, dvds – whoa…how much is Iron Man? Great, I lost time. Focus! I turned the corner to destiny to find just one box of size 5s left on the shelf. I glanced around a bit to see if maybe there was a smaller package…. I only needed one. Two if it was a bad night. Seeing that this box was going to be the winner, I crouched down to retrieve it only to be bumped by another dad with the same agenda. We rose up, each one holding one half of the last box of diapers. My grip was firm…and so was his. It was a stand off.

I glanced to see that he had on an Overland Park t-shirt. This was clearly a turf battle. I was in the right. This was my house. No OP dad was going to muscle in on my hunting grounds. My grip tightened. We danced around the aisle a bit, each one trying to wrestle the box from the other. It was then I heard the rhythmic clicking. I looked up to see other dads circling their three-good-wheel/ one-lame-wheel carts around us. The clicking of the bad carts was almost tribal. My brothers had arrived.

I don’t know if it was my determined glare or the gathering of my entourage that shook the concentration of the outlander dad, but his hands slipped from the box. To the victor go the spoils and I raised the box high above my head in victory. The other dad frowned and turned away. As he slowly made his way down the aisle dragging along his battle worn pride, I called out to him. “Hey Kid!” He turned. I tossed him a few diapers from my new box and he caught them…dropping only one. “Now beat it.” I said. He grabbed up the dropped diaper and stuffed it into his jacket and headed out the door.

I removed my do-rag and fashioned a new one from my bounty. My new colors… my new armor. My brothers left their carts and joined me where we all donned our new badges of honor. We were eight grown men with diapers on our heads victory dancing in the infant and toddler aisle. We were special and everyone knew it. This was our town. This was our turf. And that night the East Side Cribs was born.