is that we're getting older too. I had a stark reminder of this at my local Sam's Club yesterday.
We had survived a Sam's run without any kid behavior incidents of any kind. It was amazing. We were checking out with the rudest cashier on earth, (herding kids takes a bit of time, and she was snipping about not getting her the card fast enough, not the getting the cart around the bend fast enough,etc) but I was taking it all in stride. Then she turns to me as she's ringing my stuff and says the words that just keeled me over.
"Are those all your kids? Or are some your grandkids too?"
This blow was especially harsh, because I was having one of my more "fashionable" days, pants that weren't sweats, actual closure in the front of the blouse, all that. For the lady who goes to Wal-Mart in PJ/Yoga pants fairly regularly, I had really put forth an effort. Yet I managed a flat-toned civil reply.
"I'm not even forty yet. They're all my kids." (For the record, I'm 37.)
"Oh, well. You ought to know how to move them along then."
Excuse me lady. There are six of them. You waited about 5-10 seconds to get the card after your last customer finally pulled out of the way so I could move forward. It took less than a minute to get the cart around the corner. You and your blue eyeshadow up to your dyed copper silver hair with the roots showing are just going to have to wait that 20 seconds or so. There's only one person behind us in line, and they don't have a problem. My rage at the moment was well contained enough not to say any of this, barely.
All the same, I did look at anti-aging products that evening.
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