Another Reason Why I Don't Have Kids
Recently, I was at the bakery in a grocery store, buying...well, okay, I was buying custard éclairs. For a special occasion. I'll figure out what that special occasion was later.
Anyway, the young woman working at the bakery was rhapsodizing with me about how wonderful these custard éclairs are, when a young boy (maybe six years old) interrupted us. Leaning conversationally against the front of my cart, he asked, "Do you like mushrooms?"
I made a face as I responded with an emphatic, "No, they're gross!"
The woman behind the counter nodded. "They are gross!"
The little boy frowned. "But they have to be eaten. They are vegetables."
Not wanting to address the issue of fungi vs. vegetables, I simply answered, "Well, then, I'm in trouble, aren't I?"
A perplexed frown knit across his eyebrows as he looked at me. Then, for a split second, he shifted his eyes to focus on some distant point, as if recalibrating his experience. He straightened up, turned around, and walked away, no doubt wondering how he managed to mistake us for grown ups.
I wanted to say, don't worry, kid, it happens with me a lot. Must be because I am so tall.
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