Knowing these parents, and their weakness for well behaved boys, you ask them sweetly if you can have a treat if you are good and use your indoor voice at the store. These parents agree but only on one condition: They must pick out the treat for you.
Sweet. You laugh to yourself because you have had your eye on the Reese's Peanut Butter Cups in the impulse aisle near checkout all week. (You also are adamant that they are YOUR peanut butter cups and not your little sister Reese's as your parents continually tell you. She can't even chew yet. She's only a baby you remind them time and time again)
So when you're at WalMart, you only knock a few things off the shelf. (Cereal boxes don't dent do they?) Then the moment comes and your super cool parents tell you that they get to pick out your treat for all the good behavior and stuff.
Wait a minute? They're heading to the toy aisle? Did something/someone eat their brains out? Toys?! Yessss. What's this? Momma points out this righteous spidey bike? Wow. I HAVE been a good boy.
Try not to be too jealous as you gaze upon the awesome Spiderman detailing of my new bike.
P.S.: It also furthers your cause if you don't tell your parents that you and your Cousin Lexa tried to ride your previous bike at the same time and that's how it met it's demise. But your parents might be super cool like mine and not even care anyway.
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