It's genetic.

Today, we went to Ella's neurologist for a follow-up visit to discuss the medicine that she's been taking. I always enjoy meeting with Dr. Livingston. His disposition is very calming, and I appreciate that he never rushes us out of his office; he spends no less than an hour with us each visit, and he takes the time to address in detail all of our concerns. This afternoon, we were discussing genetic connections between family members with neurological abnormalities, among other topics. After we left the office, Matt had a meeting that E and I dropped him off at, which left the two of us with about 45 minutes to kill. 

As soon as Matt exited the car, a significant genetic connection of another kind than that which we spoke about with Dr. L. kicked in between Ella and me. What would we do with our brief amount of time? Shop, of course. We said it at exactly the same time. We probably thought it at exactly the same time. It's not like we had very long to get a bunch of shopping in, but that is never an issue. There's always time to spend money. ALWAYS. Then again, we must have some other genetic mutation that enhances our ability to power shop. 

I truly believe that there is a genetic component that predisposes someone to enjoy perusing stores (specifically those that sell clothes and shoes and purses and makeup). I know this because Ella is at least a 4th generation shopper. My grandma loved shopping. While my mother would point out that Grandmother liked garage sales, I would counter her with the fact that she lived through the Great Depression and had no choice but to be frugal. She still liked going to the mall and throwing down cash and, as she called it, her "master charge" at the drop of a hat. I saw the sparkle in her eye whenever she walked into JB White when I was a little girl. (For those of you who aren't in the know, JB White was a local department store here in Columbia. It's been replaced with Belk.)

I have also seen that sparkle, or should I say shooting stars and rainbows, in my mother's eyes whenever she goes to a.n.y. store whatsoever. Any. Store. Any. Homegirl loves to get her shop on. Loves. Stores are her happy place. I know for a fact that the notion that shopping produces endorphins is true because I've seen it work on my mom. Shopping is her element, and there is an aura about my mom when she's in her element. You can almost hear angels singing. (However, you do not hear my dad singing.) She moves with ease through all sections of a store. She knows what she wants, and it puts a spring in her step to just have the opportunity to run her eyes over her options. Michael Jordan is a natural basketball player. Roger Federer is a natural tennis player. My mom is a natural shopper. 

Unfortunately Fortunately Unfortunately Whatever She's passed her Olympic-sized spending abilities on to me. I may not go as often as she does... because I don't have as big of a financial resource as she... but when I get into a store, I feel completely at home. I feel safe and welcome and ready to get down to business and I never ever want to leave. And, like my mom, I can find that comfort at just about any store. Well, almost any; I do have a slightly unfounded sense of snobbery when it comes to some places. I'm not sure where this comes from, but I swear it's innate. I'm not proud of it, so don't judge me. 

So, that brings us to my Ella. I have seen this sense of indulgence for shopping blossoming in her for a long time. She loves it. Very much. She skips through the aisles and makes sounds like "Ooooooh" and "Ahhhhhhh" and says stuff like, "Oh this is soooo adorable!" and "This would look so cute on me!" in high-pitched squeals of excitement. Yeah. She's a natural. 

From experience, I know two things about this genetic mutation. #1: Matt and I better start making a bunch of money.  #2: It doesn't go away. But, how could it? It's hereditary. And you can't fault anyone for that.