What Do You Do With a Daughter on a Rainy Day?

You take her shopping, that's what you do.  It's the Ace I've got up my sleeve in this Daddy business.  I really like shopping...I do.  My wife isn't about to dress me, and it's the only way to see what you want, and to find things that don't cost you two thousand dollars.  I shop, and so my daughters will always have someone with a credit card that doesn't mind schlepping them to the mall.  Of course, eventually they won't want to be seen within fifteen feet of their Dad, but then they'll come back around and everything will be all consumerrific again.

Today we bought a rain coat...and, of course, almost bought these glasses ('cause why on earth wouldn't you?), and then most definitely didn't buy the Cody Simpson backpack.  She's three, not thirteen.

This Dad could spend an entire day walking, talking, and gasping at the cost of things that will be on the sale rack in two months for one third of the price.  I've always liked it.  I never understood those men who didn't, and then complained about the pleated khakis that their wife bought them and the sweater they'll never wear (but do, because their wife makes them).  Who the hell would want to wear pleated khakis?  Guys that are ridiculously thin, or whose wives bought their clothes, that's who.  I'm a big guy, so it's not like I can grab stuff off the rack at The GAP and walk away a happy customer, but I can find the things that I want if I look...and there's the rub.  I have to look.  There's a reason why I don't own a single pair of Dockers, and can dress myself for a wedding.  I shop.  I don't buy Cody Simpson backpacks though.