A Very Happy Return

He paid $25 for it in January, this leather holder for his Kindle. My son, the voracious reader. It broke because the holder was plastic and he kept taking it out and then putting it back. To his defense, the thing wasn't designed well and I figured the plastic thing would snap a long time ago.
“You shouldn’t have taken it out so much,” I scolded.
“I know,” he said, his eyes downcast.
“We can tape it,” I said. "That'll hold it."
He looked at me like I had five heads. “Put tape on my Kindle?”
“I’ll see if I can return it.”
I went to the store where he bought it, a big box store. They get returns every day. There was a young girl working there, younger than most of my daughters. I had witnessed a scene at the counter the week before with people returning something. The process didn’t go well. There was yelling and accusations and hands thrown in the air. I decided I would not act that way.
“My son bought this here a while ago and I don’t have the receipt.”
“How long ago?” she said.
“Like, January.” I was trying to speak her language, with the “like” at the front of the sentence. She looked 12. Seriously. I was returning a broken Kindle holder to a 12 year old.
“Well, our return policy is usually 90 days, but if you can find the same thing over there we could switch it out by using your driver’s license.”
“Okay, I’ll go look for it.”
“The only problem is, we clearanced those holders. You have to find the exact same one.”
The most knowledgeable 12 year old I have ever met.
I went to the Kindle holder department and found them. She was right. They now made them without the plastic thing at the top and with a sleeve you slide your reader into because, I deduced, a lot of people broke that plastic thing at the top. It was flimsy.
I returned with the sleeve kind and showed it to her. She opened it, compared the two, and said, “Yeah, this is different.”
Then she looked up at me, looked me in the eye with something akin to the little Who girl who got out of bed and asked the Grinch for a drink of water. I think it was Cindy Lou.
“I’m sorry. I can’t switch these out.” She frowned, as if I had a disease she couldn't cure.
I could have stomped and fumed and fussed, and if I had, and offered to pay the difference, I probably could have gotten my way. The customer is always right and all that. But there was something pure and innocent and righteous about those eyes and her honest attempt to help me. And it's not fair that a store should replace something after 90 days that broke because it was used too much.
“I understand. I thought I’d give it a try. Thank you for helping me.”
She smiled and looked as if I’d just offered her tickets to see (insert whatever pop star Cindy Lou likes). Taylor Swift? Coldplay?
I went home, got out the Super Glue, and went to work. I had saved the plastic thing just in case. I glued it, then popped my Kindle out of its cover, which is exactly like the one my son bought but is in better shape, and clicked his device into my holder.
“There, good as new,” I said, handing it to him.
“I won’t take it out so much, Dad,” he said.
After the glue dried, I took my e-reader, gingerly pushed it into my son's holder, expecting it to crack...expecting the glue to give, but instead I head "SNAP." 
Good as new.