Don't worry. I ordered them. I didn't want you to think I was receiving unwanted or unexpected CDs. Well, I guess they're only unwanted in that who wants a CD these days? But the used CD was cheaper on Amazon than the MP3 download, so here I am. Recieving CDs in the mail.
I'm going somewhere with this, I promise.
Monday night, when Jack got home, he saw that I had opened a package and that The Plain White T's (T's's?) second-newest CD was sitting near the pile of mail.
"I GOT A CD!" he announced.
"No, that's my CD," I corrected him. "I ordered it with my Amazon birthday money."
"But I love the Plain White T's!" he whined back. "You got it for me for my birthday!"
"No, dear, actually, I got it for me for my birthday," I said. "I'm sorry; honey, that's not your CD."
He pouted. He tantrumed. He insisted the CD was his. But that didn't change the fact that he wasn't supposed to have the CD.
The next day, he came and took me to lunch, and when he heard the Plain White T's playing in my car, he began the whole process again.
"That's my CD!" he announced, excitedly. "You forgot to give me my CD!"
I sighed. Living with an only-child was taxing sometimes.
"It's not your CD, honey," I explained. "It's my CD."
He pouted. He tantrumed. He insisted the CD was his. He changed his Facebook status.
(He has The Crazy.)
But that didn't change the fact that he wasn't supposed to have the CD.
No, the CD was ordered for a specific purpose, like all the other Plain White T's CDs that had been arriving that Jack knew nothing about since I had hidden all the others on time. This was my third, actually, and there was still another coming. They were all going to my car's CD changer for a trip Jack knew nothing about.
We would leave Saturday after taekwondo classes. I already had Jack's bag packed, and I was ready to lure him into the car and start driving, without telling him where I was going.
And that's when the adventure began.