Message With A Bottle
May 2011
11 posts
“Welcome to organized chaos,” said an older gentleman who probably served in at least one major war.
He was definitely a veteran of this type of exercise. In his years he’d probably seen much worse. The look on my face must have reminded him of a soldier in his own platoon, knee deep in battle for the first time, shell shocked, overwhelmed and ready to go AWOL as soon as the General turned his back.
“Is it always this bad?” I hoped this was the worst it would get.
“This is nothing. Wait until you see the food court.”
The mall on a rainy Sunday. Events too graphic even for the History channel.
He grabbed his grandson by his arm and yelled him for jumping onto his brother’s back for the fourth time.
While the other kids sprinted, climbed, skipped, punched and screamed my son sat by himself just a few feet away from the Permanent Roommate. He seemed just as shell shocked at the scene as his father. After getting his bearings he happily crawled into the middle of the battle field. I know I wanted to grab him and throw him back in the stroller before he was run over by grade school tanks or belly crawled onto a land mine disguised as a toddler that hadn’t napped. I could imagine what was going through the Roommate’s head considering she is way more protective. Instead we both let him wander around the indoor play area in front of the JC Penny.
This is good for him. Interacting with other kids. Learning how to assert himself into social situations and HOLY SHIT THAT KID ALMOST KICKED HIM IN THE FACE.
Breathe. Breathe. He’ll be fine. A kick to the face never hurt anyone. Unless you count Johnny Lawrence from The Karate Kid and…THAT KID JUST PUSHED HIM RIGHT OFF THE FAKE PIG! Which one of you people hatched this little miscreant? I’m going to shove a stroller down your ear canal for raising such a mongrel. Just got to watch to see who the little snot runs over to and…mmkkk…that guy is the size of a Escalade. No harm done, there is enough room on the faux pig for everyone to get a turn.
The little guy crawled back to safety in front of the Roommate. Nothing can happen with her so close.
Those two kids are running right towards one another. Don’t they see one other? Pull out Maverick! Pull out! Maverick! Goose can you hear….
[Mid-air collision]
The Permanent Roommate lifted the kid from the ground, away from the limp bodies of the fallen (and now hysterically crying) pilots.
“Let’s go get some food,” she said, buckling him into the stroller.
Playgrounds, like war, are hell. The chicken nuggets afterward, however, are delicious.
Free Comic Book Day
This past weekend was Free Comic Book Day. Took the little fella. Here is what went down.
ZOMG! A free Spider-Man comic book. I can’t wait to read it, in like three years. Thanks Dad, for in no way, thinking this all the way through. Wait a minute. Is this made of delicious…
IT IS! This is paper. Oh God, I’m famished. I haven’t eaten in about thirty-four minutes. This tastes better than those damn peas. Peter Parker you are NOM.
Hang on. Those books in the plastic look even more delicious. Want. Want. I bet they taste like old basement and the tears of young lonely men. I’ll take one of everything. Put it on Dad’s Shop Rite card.
Oh dear. I think I just shit purple ink.
