Seeing Red - 08/05/2006

Two Target stories.

The first one was last night. I took the kids to Target to return some shorts and a backpack J did not like. Mrs. Squeak had only napped one hour that day, and you could tell by this time, 6:30 p.m., that she was in desperate need of more sleep. We're walking into Target and there's a young man, a Target employee, pushing a cart back to the store. As we are walking in, Squeak notices him and yells "DADDY!!" Two ladies next to us burst out laughing. The kid (he was like 17) says "No, sorry, I'm not your daddy," which makes the 2 women crack up even more. I laugh and tell the kid, "Her dad wears a red polo to work sometimes and has your hair coloring." So darned funny. That was the extent of the fun, as she had a melt-down walking in the door. I tried feeding her, only to burn her mouth with too-hot pizza. We returned the shorts and backpack and left, not having done any more shopping, as she continued to cry inconsolably. We brought her home, changed her diaper and put her straight to bed. No supper or bath. She was too exhausted. She passed out immediately at 7:30.

Second Target story was today. Just J & I shopping this time. We had done all the shopping and J went to the water fountain to get water. He comes back and I can tell he almost has tears in his eyes. "Some lady yelled at me" he says, as his lips quiver. I asked why. He said that the lady was drinking at one of the two fountains. The smaller kiddie one was open, but Jake wanted to wait for the taller one. She looked at him waiting and said "There's one there you know." He did not move. When she turned around, he said she looked as if she were crying, so he asked "Are you o.k.?" to which she snapped "Why don't you just leave me alone!" What....a *itch. An utter *itch. And there he was telling me this story, with tears in his eyes and his voice faltering. He was trying to show concern for this lady and she blasts him. She of the 5' nothing, 250 pounds, in shorts too short for a lady her age and weight, with her cellulite just a-jiggling, black roots peeking out of her short blond hair, wearing HEELS with her shorts. She of the white-trash clan and her cigarette. Utter *itch. It is sad that you cannot even show concern for your fellow man, or in her case, troll. I don't want him to have to bottle that up. I just told him "Some people are mean and rude. You ignore them and move on," as I rubbed his back with my nails.