Adventures of the Shopping Kind

From the annals of "If you ever see my kid(s) do this, you have my permission to throw them over your knee and give them a whoppin' the size of Montana."

I had to make one of those fun stops this afternoon.  You know the kind:  I just figured out, five minutes shy of six post meridian, what we were having for dinner.  And, of course, do I have all the necessary ingredients?  Hells, no. 

So, Whole Foods, here I come.

Outside the store, I spot four kids.  This isn't a news-flash but, instead, kind of par for the course.  Lots of students from Richardson High travel right past the WF to get to the dollar store, where I see them purchase sodas the shade of blood and crackers with expiration dates rivaling Twinkies.  Which they down, in one large bite and one super gulp, on the free picnic tables outside WF.  No harm, no foul.

But, this time?  Two kids in their early teens, sporting lanyards with badges dangling off, were with two much younger kids.  First, they decided to assault the shopping carts by jumping/standing on them anyway they could figure might create a nasty fall and necessitate an ambulance.

Of course, that ambulance would be courtesy of WF because, HOW DARE WHOLE FOODS PROVIDE CARTS THAT MIGHT TIP OVER IF SOME JACKWIPE KID DECIDES THEY ARE A CARNIVAL RIDE!

Thankfully, that never happened.  But, I was prepared with my handy-dandy cell phone, just in case.

Since they didn't break limb and crush skull on the carts, the next stop was the assortment of beautiful, decorator gourds and large pumpkins.  The older two kids started picking them up and pretend throwing them.  Can you guess their sex???

By now, I've walked far enough to secure my carnival ride cart and I'm about to enter the store.  Alongside me is an older gentleman, who has stopped dead in his tracks before entering the store, looking at these boys.  I figure "He's tongue-tied" because he's thinking "If I had done that, my Momma would have whopped me for weeks".  So, in his defense, and because I heard that pumpkins are at a premium this year, I said to the boys:

"Guys?  It's probably not a good idea to be playing with those gourds and pumpkins because if you accidentally drop one, the store won't be able to sell it."  Then, I turned to the elderly gawker (who was STILL looking at the boys)* and said "I know you wanted to say something, too."

He looked at me like I had a huge boil on the end of my nose and his skin was in eminent danger of contracting MRSA.  Crickets, I tell you.  Dead silence.  More staring.  This time, though, directed at me.  Like I'd just committed murder.  So, I gathered up my big girl panties and walked through the door, after making a mental note not to verbally rescue anyone from The Greatest Generation ever, ever again.

Shopping complete, I head to the register.  I'm pretty much staring into space when I hear a youngish-sounding voice say "...and this lady was all "blah, blah" and we weren't doing ANYTHING.  She was SO MEAN!"  And, like the dialogue balloon over a cartoon character's head, his words were still hanging in mid-air when he looked across the register, directly at me, THE MEAN LADY.

He turned forty shades of green.  And, boy howdy, was I ready.  I was just waiting for him to point at me and say "She's the one.  There's the meanie.  Do SOMETHING Mommy!"

But, did he?  No.  He looked away, after I smiled my most snarky "YOU ARE SO BUSTED!!!", smile.  I never broke contact with the top of his head, which was now hanging, where it belonged.

I was ready for Momma, too.  The speech about having boys myself, not wanting them to get in trouble, it takes a village, etc.  And, if she had gotten pissy?  I was totally prepared to walk away.

But, I never got that chance.  Hell boy walked out of the south exit and I, the North.  Once I was safely away from the building, he stared me down, all the way to my car.  Probably memorized my license plate and will put sand in my gas tank tomorrow.

You know what, though?  I wouldn't change a thing about this interaction.  I wasn't mean.  I wasn't threatening.  I was calling down behavior that was inappropriate.

And, isn't that what we are called to do as Christians?  Live in the world, but be "aliens" and "strangers" with our behavior, so people will wonder what higher authority we are answering to?**

Yes, I think that's the ticket on this one.  At least, that's my story.  And I think I'm happy with it.



*After his response, maybe it wasn't gawker that I should use to describe him.  CREEPY.

**Not Hebrew National Hot Dogs, you dufus.