Friday, July 20, 2012

Judged

I got that look today.

One from the cashier at the grocery store. It was a twofer as well! Equal parts of "oh you have custody today?" and, "nice nutritious breakfast loser." We'd slipped out early (just after 6am) for a few things. I picked up some Half & Half for myself. I also grabbed some chocolate chips for the version of GORP I make. I wanted to pick up some potato chips for the wife and kids but absolutely nothing was on sale except Cheetos. Which - considering the insane hours my wife has been working (went to work at 6am, got home at 2am) - seemed like the kind of absolute crap that would hit the spot for her when she needs to crash and pig out. Sadly the cashier at the store took one look at that collection of guff and used her overweight, minimum-wage lofty perch to judge us.It probably didn't help that my daughter was cradling the Cheetos like it was her security blanket. I imagine the cashier took the innocent scene before and managed to translate it into something like this.


Mind you the girl in that picture is far to alert and smiley to have been my daughter today. I'm sure you've figured out by now that once my daughter wakes up that usually she throws herself around like Bez from The Happy Mondays at a Man Man gig. But this week she's been so lethargic and morose that I even considered that she might have mono (good Lord that would be awful). She was so afflicted with it yesterday that after what seemed like a startling recovery in the morning we headed out to a playground. She played relatively normally for five minutes with some kids we see at her swimming class. Then she very suddenly started looking very very tired. At which point she lay down on the playground, told the girl she was with that she couldn't play any more as she was too tired and started crying. I had to carry her back to the car. She then lay on the couch and whimpered for four hours. She would randomly weakly cry out to me that she was unable to stop crying - but she didn't know why she was crying in the first place. Fast forward to this morning and what the cashier was presented with was a wild, half-dead looking child with tears in her eyes that have been present for a week now. Even though it was my daughter's idea to go out early for cereal (which we didn't get - I'm not paying $6 for any cereal that doesn't come with naked photos of Lisa Edelstein in it) the cashier no doubt assumed she'd been dragged out against her will. Maybe she hadn't even been to bed yet - forced to stay on guard while Dad plays with his two best friends - a paper bag and a can of spray paint.

Luckily my son isn't sick and is very much a morning person. So when he rumbled up to the cash register and started babbling and pointing at the big smiley sticker on the cashier's chest (a recurring theme as you can see) she didn't receive that as a friendly child being happy and warm. No - she paired it to the other "evidence" in front of her and likely assumed that he was just a foul-mouthed, sex-crazed little person like Marcus in Bad Santa. My son's energy this morning has been almost heroic. A quick synopsis of his morning-:

- Yelling cheerily at his mother and pointing at her breasts, "I WANT THOSE!" He's been weaned a while now so that had all kinds of odd undertones to it. Is he already hitting puberty? Oedipal? Is he doing that thing like the cat in Red Dwarf where he points at stuff that he claims as his own territory (better than pissing all over it frankly)? Or weirdest of all - is he stating out loud that he hopes when day to grow his own delightful breasts? That is an answer that will only be answered after many years and possibly some intensive surgery.

- Playing a game where he stands in the center of the living room screaming, "DUBADUBADUBADUBA!" until some undetermined time, when he then darts off to ride the dog like an unobliging getaway horse

- Running across the landing at such an alarming speed that he felt the need to close his eyes - and therefore ran head first into a wall. Not to worry though - he is immune from any physical pain before 7am and turned the entire experience into a new extreme sport. He then tried to coax his sister and I into a game of Oboe's Blindfolded Bash and Crash - only this time it involved running in any random direction with his eyes shut until something

- Doing this for at least an hour straight this morning.


The wife claims she's coming home early and everyone can nap with her. During which time I might intentionally go back to the store to pick up some brown paper lunch bags and a can of Raid. I'll even remember to be fidgety and tell the same cashier to hurry up as the kids have likely chewed through their ropes and strayed quite far from the motorbike by now.

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