Tuesday, July 10, 2007
Stairing Me Down
This week Stinker has earned his namesake ten-fold. As far as Princess Pipsqueak, let's just say that Dora had better find a map with an all expense paid spa for Mommy or Mommy's going to sell Boots the Monkey to the circus. (Or at least to a casting director so he can live out his last days as the famous chimp starring in Clint Eastwood's next production of "Every Which Way but The Nursing Home").
With this in mind, I bring you today's "stranger post". While at Costco, explaining to the kids "that bacteria we lick from grocery carts differ from the bacteria in Kirkland yogurt", an old man approached my cart with a smile.
I asked how he was.
He told me the kids were adorable.
I told him that they could be his for a song and a dance. (More expensive than the peanuts, but cheaper than the patio furniture.)
He must have thought I asked him about "dancing" because he launched into a story about the war and cutting a mean two-step. He then chuckled at the kids' poking contest and mumbled something about "been there, done that, never again in hell" and ambled off.
I couldn't help but notice that one eye was sealed shut. He had a limp. Yet he was still friendly, courteous and retained more vigor than me - a person half his age. I made a committment to myself that if this geezer could manage a warehouse at 91, I could manage two kids.
One loooong car ride home (replete with screaming fits over who gets to touch the receipt, an impending fist fight over a month old Skittle, and a rowdy argument about Scooby vs. Cinderella's belching capabilities) I decided that the stairs could do a much better job than I could.
Clearly my kids agreed with me.