Souvenir

"I've got a bone to pick with you!" my mom said on the phone this afternoon.  "Do you remember a long time ago you gave me a bag of toys to donate? I left it in the back of my car and forgot about it for months and months.  Today I took it into the principal's office and dropped the whole thing into the treasure chest."

The treasure chest is for kids who get to choose special prizes.

"Later an email went out to the whole staff asking who dropped off the bag of booty.  There was something off in the tone of the email, but I replied letting her know that I'd left the toys.  She asked me to come down to the office so she could show me something."

Oh, no, I thought.  What on earth did I leave in that bag?!

Rewind two and a half years to our vacation in Scotland with my parents, sisters, brothers-in-law, and niece.  We spent our last full day in Edinburgh and I did some souvenir shopping along the Royal Mile like every other tourist in town.  At one shop, as I was buying a soccer (foot)ball covered with Scottish flags for Ellie, I noticed a hilarious little impulse item on the counter.  "What a fabulous gag gift," I thought.  "Maybe for the couple who are watching our dog."

After we got home it occurred to me that it was not an appropriate gift for anybody.  At some point I must have dropped it into a bag of things to take with me on a visit to my parents' house, thinking we could all get a laugh out of it.  And then forgotten it, because . . .

"What was in the bag of toys?" I asked my mom.

"A whisky flavored condom!"

Oh, no.

"Can you even imagine if some child had taken that home as his prize?  From elementary school?"

Fortunately, my mom's principal has a great sense of humor.  And checked the toys one-by-one before emptying my mom's bag into the treasure chest.

"She checked it out and warned me that it is indeed expired so is no good unless I want more grandchildren."