A “Sancti-Mommy” Visits The Mall

Earlier this week, I took my little one to the mall for our daily morning stroll.  As we passed the playground, my gaze fell upon a small girl child.  She was wandering around like an aimless urchin.  Maybe she was an aimless urchin.  I don’t know.  I didn’t have time to dwell on that possibility.  One of her feet was bare and there was a vending machine only ten feet away her.  Before chilled air could wrap flu tentacles around the little tyke’s foot, I rushed towards the playground.

The only adult in the play area was a woman sitting on a bench.  Her eyes were on a book instead of her child.  She looked up as I approached.  “You’re doing it wrong,” I told her kindly when I spotted the missing sock next to her.  I grabbed it and quickly placed it on the small child’s foot.  There was a large diaper bag beside the woman.  I took the initiative to rifle through it and pull out a hat.  I gently placed it on the little girl’s head.  My chest swelled with pride as I walked away.  I could hear the woman’s expletives of gratitude echo across the playground.  After all, a covered child is a happy child.

Buoyed by my random act of kindness, I searched for more opportunities to help strangers with children.  Fortunately, the mall was crawling with unfit parents.  I spotted a pair of them pushing a wailing baby in a neglect buggy.  Happy children do not cry in public places.  Mine never do, so this couple clearly needed my help.  I tightened my arms around my precious guppy, before marching in their direction.

They stopped talking when they saw me.  I knelt down beside the baby and buggy.  “You poor little hugless child,” I murmured in a soothing voice, gently stroking his hair.  “I’m sure someone loves you.” Neither person moved when I unbuckled the little boy and picked him up.  The infant stopped crying and looked at me.  “Perhaps your child would cry less if you carry him,” I suggested, before handing him to his mother.  The couple stared at me.  The woman’s cheeks flushed crimson with embarrassment.  “It’s okay,” I assured her in a confident voice.  It masked how uneasy I felt leaving the hapless mite in their care.  “Now that you know better, you’ll do better.”  The man sputtered something unintelligible as I continued to patrol the mall.

My mind whirled as I scanned my surroundings.  So many people needed my help.  But who would reap the greatest benefit from my intervention?  Suddenly, the stench of cinnamon hit me like a brick wall.  Of course.  The food court.  What weak-willed parent can resist the lure of the nugget?  I pulled my scarf over my nose and headed in that direction.

I wasn’t surprised by what I saw.  Rows of tables littered with trays of garbage.  My stomach sank.  So many parents were shoveling GMO’s into the open mouths of their unsuspecting children.  I walked past a few gluten peddlers before spotting a dire situation.  A helpless adult male sitting beside a shrieking child.  I looked around, but there wasn’t a mother in sight.

My pace quickened.  The man obviously needed help to defuse the tantrum.  The little girl stood next to the table, red-faced, fists clenched, howling at the top of her lungs.  I couldn’t blame her.  She was probably protesting the nuggets.

“Hi Sweetheart,” I said softly, kneeling beside the little girl.  The man looked startled, but then visibly relaxed when I winked at him.  He know that I was there help.  “Why are you sad?”

“No eat,” the little girl stamped her foot and shrieked.  “Me no eat.”

“You’re such a smart little girl,” I cooed, as I tousled her curls.  “You know that your daddy is trying to poison you.”

“What?” The man sputtered, while the little girl stuck one unclean thumb in her mouth.  Her eyes lit up with interest.

“Well, I’m going to help you, sweetheart,” I smiled at her and picked up their trays.  “Let’s put this where it belongs.”  I walked over to the trash can and threw both plates in.  I pulled out my hand sanitizer and squirted some into my palms.  “Garbage belongs in garbage.”

The man gaped at me, while the little girl smiled and clapped her hands.  I grinned back at her.  Sometimes, children know better than their parents do.

Parenting is hard for some people.  It takes a village for these people to raise a child and I am a part of that village.  Because when you know better, you do better.

AUTHOR’S NOTE:  This is satire.  It is fiction.  Please do not verbally torpedo me for the actions of a fictional character.  Thank you.



Day 13 of 30: Write 15 Minutes of Absurdity

Once the Starbucks red ombre cup catastrophe died down, I realized that I could actually help others out by creating a list of legitimately offensive things in 2016.  You’re welcome.

Here’s a list of offensive things to start 2016, in no particular order:

OFFENSIVE THING #1 – MCDONALD’S:  I get offended when I buy a hot fudge sundae at McDonald’s and rush home before it turns into a soupy mess, only to discover a gumdrop smattering of fudge in the cup.  It’s heartbreaking to reach the middle of the sundae and find nothing but the uninspiring swirl of vanilla soft serve.  What’s up with that?

OFFENSIVE THING #2 – STARBUCKS:  I get offended when I wait twenty minutes in the Starbucks drive-thru line and order a non-fat, no foam vanilla latte, only to reach home and discover that there is a 3-inch layer of foam and no vanilla syrup in my cup.  That’s a plain cappuccino, NOT what I ordered. What’s up with that?

OFFENSIVE THING #3 – VERIZON:  I get offended when the guy at the Verizon store sells me a freaking IPHONE and guarantees that I purchased enough memory for all of the videos that I want to take, only to discover after 3 months of usage that I can’t take any more pictures, film any more videos, or buy any more music, because I don’t have enough memory.  I have to send things to “THE CLOUD.”  What’s up with that?

OFFENSIVE THING #4 – MACY’S:  I get offended when the lady at the makeup counter of Macy’s sells me “age-defying” foundation under the glow of the store’s fluorescent lights.  So, I take it home and slather it all over my face with enthusiasm, only to discover that there’s nothing age-defying about it.  There is only a thick, tan paste caked into the creases of my face.  And the paste doesn’t even match my skin tone in natural light AT ALL.  What’s up with that?

OFFENSIVE THING #5 – RECIPES:  I get offended when I find a recipe online, buy all of the necessary ingredients, actually follow the instructions with engineering precision, and only end up with 1.5 dozen cookies instead of the promised 5 dozen.  I’m not baking for chipmunks.  I’m baking for human beings, so I didn’t use a thimble to apportion the cookie dough.  What’s up with that?

OFFENSIVE THING #6 – PANYTHOSE:  I get offended when I buy a pair of “control top reinforced” pantyhose, take them home, and stuff my parts into them, only to discover that there’s nothing controlling or reinforcing about them.  Things that moved before, continue to move after inserting them into nylon mesh.  What’s up with that?

(NOTE:  Item #6 really applies to any form-fitting flesh containment system.  I think the Jedi knights from Star Wars were on to something.  We as a society need to move to long, flowing hooded robes.  It would solve a lot of problems.)

OFFENSIVE THING #7 – WASHABLE MARKERS:  I get offended when I am badgered by my 4-year old son into buying markers at the store, grudgingly agree to it when I spot “Washable” markers, and let him color with them at home, only to discover that there is nothing washable about the markers once they have been liberally applied to walls, sofas or any other clear surface in the house.  What’s up with that?

OFFENSIVE THING #8 – MILKY WAY:  I get offended when I purchase a bag of “fun-size” Milky Way chocolate for my secret stash, rush home to hide from my family, and pull one out of the bag to eat while crouching under the bed, only to discover that there is nothing “fun” about them.  They’re barely a bite of chocolate.  I may as well lick the glass on the pastry display case at Starbucks, because I’d get more of a sugar high from it.  What’s up with that?

OFFENSIVE THING #9 – JET’S PIZZA:  I get offended when I order a super special pizza from Jet’s Pizza, they ask me if I want a round or square pizza, and I order the square pizza, only to discover that the pizza doesn’t even remotely resemble a square.  It’s a RECTANGLE.  What’s up with that?

OFFENSIVE THING #10 – HUMORLESS PEOPLE:  I get offended when I read an online article, carefully craft a delightfully snarky comment, and post it for the masses to admire, only to discover a coven of humorless people who get offended by anything.  The internet is no place for humor.  What’s up with that?

Well, that’s it for now.  I’m sure if I put my mind to it, I’ll find other stuff that offends me.  Happy New Year!