Battle between good and evil at McCheckout

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Anything that hangs, spins or moves differently is a "dooey." That's according to my two-year-old.

A sun catcher in a window is a dooey.

So is a piece of thread hanging from a pair of jeans, and an office chair that spins.

A sneaker dangled by its lace is a shoey dooey, and the local Home Hardware is known as the Dooey Store because it has a selection of hanging trinkets and wind chimes.

If I had a dollar for every time the kid has said, "Poppy take me to the Dooey Store," I could bail Greece out of debt.

My son just doesn't enjoy staring at, touching, and spinning a dooey, he absolutely loves it.

He gets so excited that he simultaneously raises his arms, waves both hands frantically, opens his mouth widely, stops breathing and makes an "awh-ha, awh-ha, awh-ha" sound.

It was quite scary at first, but we've learned to stop wondering if he needs CPR and to respect his dooey dance.

I'm quick to tell people who witness it that he takes after his mother, that she had the same reaction when we first met.

Actually, I've become pretty fond of how excited he gets, perhaps because as an adult, I wish something so simple got me so wound up.

Last Sunday morning, to give Mom a rare sleep-in, the child and I went to McDonalds for a muffin and a coffee.

We had no idea the current Monopoly promotion had the restaurant turned into McDooey's.

Numerous cardboard characters from the board game were dangling from the ceiling, including a question mark, a die and the guy with the top hat, who used to be called Rich Uncle Moneybags.

The display was a Lotto 6/49-like win for my son and he did his happy dance, to the amusement of staff and other customers.

I proudly lifted him to touch the dooeys - forgive me if that's not the plural of dooey - and his excitement grew and grew.

He got so fired up, he spiked the die to the floor and it buckled.

"Uh-oh," he said.

"Craps," I thought, as customers stared in disapproval at the die.

The Juvenile Steve wanted to flee the McScene, but Responsible Dad Steve proposed picking up the damaged die and promptly reporting the incident.

A 30-second battle between good and evil ensued near the cashiers. Usually internal debates in this precise location are between Big Macs and grilled chicken sandwiches, but this one was between delinquency and doing the right thing.

"Bolt, and it'll be just like back in high school, when you were much cooler," pleaded Juvenile Steve, who has his hair in a mullet. "And, c'mon, it's really only a freakin' cardboard box."

But the bow-tie wearing Responsible Dad Steve commanded, "We must set a good example for the boy, and we did damage property."

The responsible side won, as it usually does these days.

I picked up the die, brought it to the counter and confessed to a female manager what had happened, making sure my son heard me.

But I don't know who cared less, the woman or the boy.

She didn't give it a second thought and continued on her McMerry way.

The kid reached up and took a swipe at Rich Uncle Moneybags.

I learned a lesson though - to be more careful when letting him touch objects that hang or spin. If this had happened at the Dooey Store, I couldn't have been out a few bucks.

So, keeping the McDonalds' incident in mind, when he goes for something that can fall or break, I'm going to be telling him, "No dice."

Steve Bartlett has been covering the provincial election campaign. His mind is a gooey dooey. Contact him at sbartlett@thetelegram.com or follow him on Twitter at @bartlett_steve.

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