Hobby Lobby

I pushed my cart of children up to the register and rummaged around at their feet trying to find the few items I was able to cram in between them. The check-out girl was giving us the usual glazed over look I get from most people who have at least five more hours of crafty items to slide over their register. I muttered some half-hearted apology for taking so long as I disloged the last little picture frame out from from under Austin's impressively large bum and threw it on the counter with the rest of the junk. Avoiding any eye contact with the growing line of harried looking women behind me, I slide my credit card and waited impatiently to sign the signature pad. Half a second after a "beep," I was waiting, hand out-stretched, for the receipt. The girl promptly slapped it on my palm and just as I was about to jet off, Alaina leaned forward to the check-out girl, flashed a smile and said, "Thank you, Gorgeous!" The girl shook her head out of her work-induced coma and looked at Alaina (who was still leaning forward with an ear to ear grin) and said, "what? " "THANK YOU, GORGEOUS!" my baby loudly reiterated.
The check out girl laughed and with a new gleam in her eye, said, "oh...thank you." The once indifferent line of women behind me came to life and swarmed up to the cart with oohs and aahs. "Aren't they adorable." "Are those curls real?" "Are they all yours?" They smiled. They touched. The kids, as usual, ate it up . Even my day seemed a bit less dreary. Who knew that a simple little statement could do?