Waitress: Pointing to empty cocktail glass: “Can I take that out of your way or are you still enjoying it?”
Me: “What this empty glass and I enjoy on our own time is none of your business.” Looks at glass: “Now, where were we? I believe you were talking about your strained relationship with your family?”
Upon witnessing an altercation at the playground between two toddlers (a “toddlercation,” as one may say – “one” being
me ) I quickly responded by saying to this one particularly handsy child, “Please don’t push her like that!” The disagreement (over a broken bucket) immediately ceased as they both stared up at me as if waiting for some form of follow up or, at the very least, a prepared statement. It was then that the possible implications of what I had said, or more so how I had chosen to say it, dawned on me. Had I just indicated that there were perhaps better, far more efficient or favorable, ways for toddlers to push one another? Were they waiting on me for a demonstration? Was I even aptly prepared to give said demonstration? It seemed very likely that I had just unintentionally appointed myself as the leader of, what could very well be, Cambridge’s very first underground toddler fight club. *The facts are unknown as to whether or not one already exists. The vacant stares of the children subsided as one gave me a big grin and said, “I ated a hotdog last night.” The other sat down quietly on a bench and immediately dug into a nostril with great fervor. “Excellent,” I mused to myself. They were already displaying skills of true champions. Skills which would surely translate well in the ring.