I Always Pick the Wrong Line

I made a run out to Kohl’s. They were having a really good sale on something that I really really needed. Okay, so I didn’t really need anything; I just love Kohl’s. And I wasn’t really aware of what was on sale at this particular moment, but Kohl’s always has great sales, and I felt it was important to find out what was going on over there.

So I had my purchases in hand:
- a pajamas set that consisted of a little red tank top and comfy bottoms covered with polka dots (I love polka dots)
- oversized cheap sunglasses (I love cheap sunglasses)
- a funky new necklace (I love funky necklaces)

As I mentioned, these were things I really really needed.

I found the shortest line. There was a little boy in the Kohl’s shopping cart/stroller contraption directly in front of me. He was about 4 years old, and he was facing my direction as his mother emptied her purchases out of the other side.

The child was staring and smirking a little. I smiled.

“I hate you,” he hissed at me. “I really do… I hate you.” His black eyes were narrowed and his lips were a thin tight line that slowly separated into a chilling smile. I thought his little pointer finger was going to start chanting REDRUM. Besides the fact that he appeared, in my non-expert opinion, to be the evil twin of Damien (the child from the Omen movies) he obviously had never learned:
- Respect for Elders
- The Golden Rule
- Don’t Talk to Strangers

I checked out the mom. Yes, that’s right. I blame the mother when a child is a brat. Doubly so when he’s a creepy little psychopath in training. What would possess him to speak to me that way? She looked like your average 30-40 something year old (I’m terrible with age), perhaps a little frumpy and scowling a bit. I couldn’t help but wonder what goes on in that house. How does one create such a mean and belligerent child?

I wanted to say something to her, but what would I say? Your child is speaking disrespectfully to me? Why is your son so creepy? What’s wrong with this kid? No matter how sweetly I utter the words, I just know anything I say will be taken as an insult.

I ignored her spawn lest he retaliate with a malevolent curse upon my family, or perhaps a kick in the knee.

It has been said that we each have the kind of children we deserve. So I called over to the mother, “Hey lady, you must have been a frickin’ nightmare!” I think only said it in my head actually. I don’t think she heard me.

I pretty sure Damien did, though. I broke out in hives.