So, I'm talking to my sister today about how Casey wants a subscription to an online gaming site. It's 25.95 for 3 months. A perfect gift I decided, from his grandparents, who give us money each year to get him something because he is so very hard to buy for.
More discussion ensues, when suddenly Casey comes up behind me and says "It's confirmed!"
"What's confirmed Bud?" I ask innocently.
"My subscription has been confirmed." he replies innocently.
"Hold on Cheryl!" I say laying the phone down, a feeling of panic taking over.
I run into the kitchen to look at the laptop, Casey padding behind me.
On the screen I read "Your Nick Jr. Boost Subscription has been confirmed."
Quickly, I try to page back, only to find that he filled out all the info needed to send the subscription as a gift perfectly, making the recipient and the sender himself, but otherwise, perfectly. Still panicking, I couldn't see anywhere that he put in credit card info.
"Casey," I called calmly, "what number did you use to confirm your subscription?".
"From the card."
"Dat one." he replies, not pointing, not helpful.
"Did you have the number memorized Case?" I ask, still not seeing a card.
"No, the Citibank Card." his cadence taking on that of Dustin Hoffman's Rainman.
Suddenly, I notice my credit card laying off to the side of the computer, as if lightly flung after it's use was rendered. My eyes shoot over to my wallet laying open, the spot where that card calls home glaringly empty. The perfect crime scene.
I grab the phone, almost forgetting that Cheryl was waiting there, listening to the whole thing.
"Did you hear that?" I ask her.
"I believe a social story is in order!" she says with official Occupational Therapist confidence (because she is).
"Yeah..." I answer, still amazed that he was able to put in enough information from my card to confirm his subscription.
Yeah, a social story is in order, and a lock box for our credit cards!
Oh my, the possibilities!