Before I proceed, I am not judging child rearing skills. I too had and still have a son that asked a million questions a day. My button would ask trillions of questions. It is exhausting. I get it.
"Mom, if Jesus is God's son, who is God's wife and why doesn't he talk about her?" Just one example of the button's questions.
"Button, why do you ask so many questions?"
"That is how I learn." Who can argue this reasoning? I get it.
The mom sat across from me, yoga pants, messy bun, mascara, lipstick, perky boobs and a sports bra/shirt combo that made her look amazing. Almond shaped gel nails that were like moving at a rapid base on her keypad. She never looked up. Ever. Never Ever.
Sitting directly across from me was the five year old. He had a fidget spinner. Again, not judging. Wish I could shake the hand of the person who invented that contraption, sure he own an island now in the South Pacific, but really? How about a book? I just sounded like my mother.
Anyway, he played with his fidget spinner and then he looked over at me. I asked, "is that a fidget spinner?"
Now, normally, a mom, who is in an ear shot of a stranger talking to her child, would look up and over at the adult speaking to her child.
Nothing.
"Yes. It is made in China. On an assembly line. I saw an episode on the history of the assembly line on the Discovery channel. Did you know that even Hershey kisses are made on an assembly line?"
OMG. A button. And he likes chocolate. He is maybe five. I was never this smart.
"Yes, as a matter of fact, I have seen the assembly line in Hershey and have seen them make the kisses. I even made my own candy bar at Chocolate World. "
No eye contact from the mother. Still typing at the speed of light.
"You did? When? Did you ride in a car on stand upright and move on moving floor? "
Okay, this kid is way too smart for a five year old. I just imagine the millions of questions that he during a car ride.
I proceed to tell him where I used to live and how Hershey was part of my business and I went there all the time and yes, the street lights really are shaped like kisses.
He was staring at me, hanging on to every word and little brother Henry stood beside him, shaking his head, like he understood and you could tell he was so eager to say something so he could be a part of the conversation. Adorable. Henry was a cutie.
And then I asked the big question, "have you ever seen pretzels being made on an assembly line?" Omg. Hit pay dirt. He saw the same episode. He must peed himself right there.
"Did you see that episode? The snack episode on the assembly line?"
Nothing, nothing from the mom. Nothing.
I have three kids. So crazy, each had a thing. The "button" loved duck tape. Any kind, any color, he loved duck tape. Walker, hitches. He could spot a hitch a mile away. Loved hitches. Adeline, leashes.
This fellow was an assembly line dude.
And then my name was called. I told my two new friends goodbye. As I walked away, I heard the mom say, "Now sit down and be good or I won't take you to Twisted Spoon."
I didn't think about her until later that day. I was talking to another mother, who is young enough to be my daughter, and she was asking me for birthday party ideas for her daughter. Night time party, different, no characters. I reply, "Snipe Hunting."
Ok, most folks my age, no longer have kids with driving permits or a cabinet filled with acne wash. Most of the friends I have, have children who have children.
Anyway, "Snipe Hunting. Have a Snipe Hunting Party."
"What the hell is Snipe Hunting?"
"You never went Snipe Hunting? Have you ever heard the song I Think I Love You?" What the hell, who hasn't been snipe hunting.
I said, "You are kidding, right? You seriously haven't been snipe hunting?"
"No, never. Never heard of a Snipe. What is a snipe?"
I told her I wasn't telling her, instead, we would hunt.
The next morning, I was thinking about the SNIPE Hunt. I remember the brown paper bags like it was yesterday. Wooden spoons, pot lids, teams....running wild in the forest. Never caught one. Never even saw one. But it was fun. Christmas morning without the gifts for adults. Fun though.
And while I was walking, my thoughts went to the mom in yoga pants in the doctor's office. Never, ever, ever, did she look up. Now, her parents could be ill and she was texting a sibling, maybe she was hoping for a kidney for an ailing sibling, hell, maybe her husband was a Russian spy, or maybe she was worn out, scared about her doctor's visit, I don't know, but she never looked up. Ever. Whatever was on that keyboard had to be pretty important.
I can remember sitting with my mom in a doctor's office, quietly, eagerly waiting to pick up the Highlights Magazine. Immediately, we went to the back page. I loved searching for the objects within the picture. And we were NEVER allowed to use a pencil or pen because "It didn't belong to us". And, if someone else ruined it for us and used a pen and circled them, we were bummed. And after the glitz of the HIGHLIGHTS MAGAZINE wore off, we played, "Find the diamond." Not the stone, the shape. It is hard to find. So we looked for it. My mom entertained us. Or herded us. And there wasn't any "be good so you can get frozen yogurt." It was more like, "do what I expect you to do so I don't break your legs." My brother was a button and just like the little guy with the fidget spinner, I know he was exhausting. He is still exhausting. But we engaged.
My dad would get so excited at the thought of a SNIPE HUNT and he would work hard to make it even more fun. No Pintrest, Google, IPHONE of Android, just him. Just searching for diamonds in an office, just simple stuff. It worked.
Books, crayons, chalk, squirt guns, hoses, and ice cubes with TANG.
Summer staples. No electronics. Just simple fun.
Recently, I reconnected with a childhood friend who lived by my mamaw and Bill. Our favorite summer days were when my mamaw pulled out old bedspreads with clothespins and we pinned them around trees and made forts. Hot as hell but awesome. We loved these forts. Especially when my mom came out with TANG flavored ice cubes in a napkin.
Walker and his little friend Ethan, came to me years ago to tell me that they didn't think Santa was "real". They googled it. Google said it was aerodynamically impossible.
I don't know what was going on in that young mom's life that day. None of my business. I got home today and was greeted by two teenagers. They got a meal out of me, helped clean up and went to their caves with their phone chargers. Occasionally, one would come out, use the bathroom and yell something at me. "I did my chores today". I wish they would still be in their CARTERS jammies, watching Discovery or Animal Planet with me. I wish they were fighting to sit in my lap for book time. I would even read that truck book (the one I have read 1billion times with the steering wheel in the center) if Walker would sit in my lap. I hope that mom realizes it that by the time she ends her text session, Henry will be driving a car. It truly goes that quickly.
And, maybe, maybe that mom was not interested in her children or their safety. Maybe I looked like a harmless old lady who missed having young kids and she wanted to make my day.
Or maybe she was exhausted from too much SNIPE HUNTING.
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