If I could see the world through the eyes of a child…

April 9, 2012 at 9:06 pm Leave a comment

…what a weird-ass world it would be!

The Kid insisted he wanted a grilled cheese sandwich for lunch. Nothing else would sate his appetite. Unfortunately, we didn’t have any bread nor did we have suitable cheese. He commanded we go to the store and get some. I figured I could stop at the Dollar Store because I need some fake flowers to complete my half-assed Passover wreath on the door. With little help from el niño, I found a bunch of flowers and then found him a giant sheet of stickers and took it all to the counter… to discover that I couldn’t find my wallet. Frantically searching, by the time it was my turn in the checkout line I had determined that I had indeed left it at home (I had taken it out of my purse when I was looking for my insurance card in order to talk to another recorded message about nothing but that’s another story). I told the checkout guy who was less than pleased and then noticed a $20 lying on the floor. My brain being my brain, I told The Kid to stay put and instantly sprinted out the door to give it back to the lady in front of me in line. Did I use it to pay for my $5 worth of Dollar Store items? No, because my brain doesn’t work that way. Everyone in the store was confused. I could see it when I came back for the somewhat bewildered Kid.

So I caught up with the lady and she was happy to have her $20 back.

The rest of the day, The Kid asks, “WHY YOU TAKE DAT LADY’S MONEY?”

I tried to explain that I was giving it back to her, but he is convinced I somehow took her money.

So we go back home and I get my wallet and we go to the grocery store (I decided not to go back to the Dollar Store because I don’t want to have to spend time picking out 5 bunches of flowers that are less shitty than the rest of the shitty dollar store flowers with a shrieking barnacle clinging to me while trying to destroy everything in sight). In the grocery store parking lot is a young woman walking down the middle of the aisles of cars talking on a cell phone. She is kind of weaving from side to side making it impossible to pass her. I say “HEY LADY GET OFF THE PHONE AND MOVE!” but I say it inside the car where she can’t hear. The Kid is fascinated and says “Why you talking to dat lady?” I say “because I want her to move so I don’t smack into her.”

The rest of the day I am also asked,

“WHY YOU TWY TO SMACK INTO DAT WAY-DEE WIF DA CAR”?

So apparently I am now a crazed homicidal driver with a penchant for petty theft.

Great.

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Entry filed under: The Kid.

The Things I Do To Shit I Feel Pretty, Oh So Pretty

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