Doing the Happy Dance
By Julie Davidson
The other day I received a card from two friends. Inside the card was a Starbucks gift card. And I have to say I don’t think my reaction was normal. When I saw that gift card, I jumped to my feet and shouted, “Starbucks!” And I did a little dance of sorts. The visual alone should frighten you. It was kind of like a teenaged girl meeting Justin Beiber or a wide receiver doing his thing after catching a pass for a touchdown.
I think back over the years to what things have given me that kind of happy. The list is long. Getting my driver’s license. Graduating from high school (actually, I think my parents danced more for that one). Graduating from college. Having a good-looking guy ask for my number (hey, it could have happened). Getting tickets to see Bon Jovi. Buying my first house. Getting engaged. Finding out I was pregnant. Events all worthy of the happy dance.
Somehow after having kids you need to be reminded that you are an adult. You can only take so much Barney and Elmo. When you’re answering Dora the Explorer’s questions, it is so time to find your grown-up space. For me, Starbucks is that space. Think about it. Most Starbucks are clean. There’s no pink glitter strewn across the floor. No Hot Wheels on the chairs. No sippy cups. But they do have an awesome display of coffee mugs for sale. And the menu is in some special language. I don’t know what it is, and I really don’t care. I just know that Caramel Macchiato sounds so fancy. It may very well translate into “No backwash, juice boxes, or breast milk here.”
When the boys were younger, I recall wanting to go inside Starbucks, but knew it would be a three-ring circus to get in and out of there without having a major issue with a stroller, screaming baby, or overtired toddler. No worries. I mapped out every single Starbucks in town that had a drive-thru. Best invention ever. I would order my fancy, hard-to-pronounce coffee drink and get a mammoth-size cookie for the boys. It got to a point that when we’d pass a Starbucks, they would point and say, “Mommy, cookie!” I always hoped that my husband wouldn’t catch on to their cryptic messages. I’m pretty sure that our visits were costing us like $50 a month, but I really didn’t care. I felt grown up.
You really can’t put a price tag on what makes you want to do your happy dance. Change that. I think a $10 Starbucks gift card will do the trick.