Today, I was standing in line at Sprouts with my two youngest boys. We were behind a man who looked to be in his late twenties.
The boys were bouncing off the conveyer belt, magazine stands, and gum holders like two pinballs who didn't know and/or care there was a hole at the bottom of the machine.
My fellow line-dweller had this pseudo-grin on his face as he watched them. He never, in the three minutes we were behind him, made eye contact with me. I reason he was thinking:
a. "Looks like me when I was a kid. My poor Mom. I should really send her flowers or an apology card. Or something."
b. "PAYBACKS!!! HA, ha, ha, ha."
c. "Geez. Why doesn't she grab them by the balls and put them on the floor in pain? That would be better than this insane bouncing."
d. "Speaking of balls. Mental note: VASECTOMY. I'll probably forget. Where's my iPhone? I need to jot this down. Pronto. WHERE'S THAT STUPID THING???"
I'm sure, this is only my over-sensitive, completely-sleep-deprived mind making the situation SO MUCH worse than it actually was.
Right? RIGHT? RRRRRIIIIIIGGGGGHHHHHHTTTT????????????????
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