Arriving home I found myself exhausted after a long day of work. A work, by the way, that no one seems to want to hear about, not even my beloved Wife. For when I stepped in the door, Wife met me with her day’s troubles. I sat down to listen to her dismaying story.
First, we set the scene: Costco, shortly after the store opened.
Second, we introduce the players: Wife, children #1 through #7, and the little old cranky lady (guess who’s the villain).
Third, we remind the audience that my children are well-behaved.
Now, Wife sets to work with her story.
While shopping in the big box store, Wife and her charges had no unexpected events to speak of, that was until the little old cranky lady. They met each other in the check out line; that cruel place in which people have no escape, second only to the elevator. The little old cranky lady surveyed our litter of children and wrinkled her already wrinkled nose. “Are all these children yours?!” she squawked.
Wife looked over her troop while her mind rambled of its own accord… No, of course they’re not all mine. While some people pick up stray cats and dogs, I drive down the unsuspecting streets picking up stray children. The hard part is finding ones that look alike, for I must have a matching set. I’m sure you have your own hobbies, perhaps a collection of glass figurines, or a flower garden, or, judging by the vodka in your cart, maybe you don’t have a hobby worth speaking of. So don’t say snide comments about something you obviously know nothing about…
But Wife has more class than to let her imagination run off of her mouth. Instead, feeling like a deer caught in the headlights, she simply stated, “Of course they are,” and refused to look at the little old cranky lady while purchasing her groceries.
Thinking that the story was finished, I offered my sympathy along with some good old-fashioned, unwanted advice. “She was probably raised with the mindset that children are a needed burden and not the gift we know that they are. Try not to hold her unkindness against her.”
Wife huffed. “I don’t. She just irritated me. Oh, and then as we’re leaving, your son,” she glared at #5 from across the room, “noticed that I only bought diapers and wipes, so he shouts at the top of his lungs, ‘Mom! We forgot the food!’ I was so embarrassed.”
One more thing I must add to this post. After going over it with Wife, I now feel the need to announce that she is interested with my work deeply. Thank you for your interest.