Still Flabbergasted...

I am confronted daily by behavior that is annoying. That behavior ranges from the "actually kind of amusing" to the "downright irritating." But, for all my complaining, I am actually a pretty even-tempered kind of Sheep. I find it hard to work up a good grump. I suspect that this speaks to my general level of laziness, really. Sometimes it's just not worth it, you know?

But every once in a blue moon, I have to fight my better nature. Sometimes you are witness to a degree of social inappropriateness that is beyond what can be borne without some sort of cerebral episode. Consider this:

I was making my usual Thursday night run to the store to pick up the rewards for the students who have behaved themselves well for the week and chocolate for the staff that has chosen to remain in the employ of the district despite having to work as my teaching assistants. They deserve it. Trust me. They put up with a lot. Most of it being me-related...

I was maneuvering my cart through the toy area after picking up some sort of light-up, squishy balls that I suspect will be enjoyed by the children (and rather quickly confiscated by the bus drivers) tomorrow. I suddenly found myself having to work around a bicycle. It is unusual to find a bicycle in the middle of a store aisle, but this is me and these things just happen to me so go with it. Further complicating matters was the little girl astride the bike. She had ridden it into the aisle and, in full defiance of her clear inability to ride with anything resembling skill, was proceeding to wobble her way through the toy department. I had some difficulty getting around her. But, I chose to say nothing. She is a kid, after all. Kids don't always know better. Knowing better is the job of the adults in their lives and I was hoping that she might belong to one of the adults in the vicinity. I firmly believe in the rights of parents to deal with their own children.

However, in this case, it was not an adult who interceded. It was a slightly older boy. Upon noting his sister's (I'm assuming that this was the relationship) rather unsafe behavior, he told her that she shouldn't be riding her bike in the store because other people couldn't get around her. I was really quite impressed with his quick action on this one. And for his not calling her a poopy-head. I wanted to...

At this point, I was finally able to pick out the parent of this delightful child from the gaggle of adult-types in the store. It was not the one who might have said, "Why, thank you Johnny for pointing out your sister's unsafe and discourteous behavior. Please, precious darling, get off the bike so that others may shop without fear of tire treads on their cute, strappy sandals that they are wearing for the first time today!"

No.

It was the charming lady (clearly of the old school and highly refined) who said, "Hey! It's her birthday and she can ride her bike wherever she damned well pleases!!! And anyone who doesn't like it can just go cry to someone who cares!!! Now let's go get some air for those tires, sweetie!"

You will just have to imagine the smug smile on the face of the Precious Princess as she proceeded to wobble her way merrily down the remainder of the aisle. There is really no way for me to describe it. And, if you want to, you can try and get a visual of her brother's face. I don't want to think about it anymore. No kid should ever look that old and defeated. It just depressed me.

Now, I think by now that we are all on board with the fact that I am rarely one who is at a loss for words. In fact, I have more things to say rattling around in my head than I know what to do with on most days. But, I never said a word to incite that little Bike Freedom Protest Speech. I wasn't the instigator. You can probably imagine, though, my desire to explain to this mother the facts of life, specifically that Precious Princess is not the only person in the world and that if having a birthday means getting to run people over then she'd better make sure and stay home on mine. Because I will make it my business to find her now that I am clear on the rules.

But I didn't.

Let's face it: those kids have had enough bad examples for one day. And probably many, many more to come. I didn't want to be the cause for another scene in a store that they will have to recount in therapy. Well...the boy, anyway. Precious Princess seemed pretty content with her lot in life, actually. I ignored Her Majesty, Queen of The Discount Store and headed straight to the shoe department where I proceeded to reward my trip down the high road with a new pair of wedge heeled sandals. Tomorrow, I will teeter my way through the day with an air of righteousness.

Meanwhile, I'm debating whether it is time to pick up and knit a bit on the sweet, stripey sock again. The last few sessions with that little piece of footwear have not gone well, thanks to my snuffly, sneezy state and I have made the decision to live by the "if it's inside the shoe, it doesn't count" theory of knitting aesthetics. But I really don't want to do any further damage on this little project.

How much NyQuil does one have to ingest to take care of cold and indignation symptoms?

SA