Humor Break
A as in Awkward
Now I’m making devil eyes and shaking my head at Buck and Emerson to not say a word when August chimed in— “She said, ‘How old are you?’”
When Kids Won’t Zip It By Holly Hester
T
his story could also be called “Children Make Awkward Situations More Awkward.”
Okay, so here we are at the feed store once again. There’s a woman that works here that is one of the toughest, most grizzled-looking “seniors” I’ve ever seen. She could give those old ladies in the last Mad Max movie a run for their money. She’s probably in her 60s, has a long, grey ponytail, the forearms of Popeye, and the gaze of Clint Eastwood. I imagine that she spends her free time wrestling alligators and throwing cement blocks through the windows of assisted-living facilities. I’ve often wondered how long I’d last in a fight with her. I’m taller and younger, but I bet she bites. She probably also has a knife in her boot. My only hope would be to wind her because, as you can probably guess, she’s a smoker. Anyway, this woman was helping us put chicks in a box, and we were talking about different types of chicks and feed, etc.—you know, feed-store banter. But I couldn’t stop staring at her, fascinated, wondering about her life. And I meant to say, “How old are the chicks?” Except 42 SonomaFamilyLife
I was so preoccupied with this woman’s possible history as a trick horse rider in an old-timey rodeo that instead I said— “How old are you?” There was stunned silence as I realized what I had said. My kids looked at me, shocked. The woman
August, being 5 years old, thinks everyone is 100. Either you’re a kid or you’re 100. didn’t answer. She just kept putting chicks in a box. I was hopeful for a moment that she hadn’t heard me. This is the part where children make awkward situations more awkward. Emerson said, “Momma, that’s rude.” I shook my head vigorously in a “please stop talking” motion. Emerson stopped talking, but apparently Buck did not see (or more likely, chose to ignore) the vigorous head shake, so he joined in. “Yeah, Mom, that’s so rude.”
I then made devil eyes at Buck, but it didn’t matter. The woman looked up and said, “What’s your mom being rude about?”
The woman fixed her Clint Eastwood gaze on me. Great. She’s going to kill me. She’s going to whip that knife out of her boot and shank me right in front of my children. There’s going to be blood all over those baby chicks. Then, to make matters worse, August added, “I think you’re about 100.” Now August, being 5 years old, thinks everyone is 100. Either you’re a kid or you’re 100. There’s no in between. August has inadvertently insulted scores of adults by asking them if they’re 100. I’ve watched the happy faces of people in their 30s, 40s, and 50s crumble after August gets through with them. The woman looked down at August. Then, much to my surprise, she burst out laughing—a loud, booming cackle of a belly laugh. Baby chicks scattered. Other feed-store shoppers turned. Her laugh eventually turned into a hacking smoker’s cough that scared everyone within a two-block radius, but still, it was a wonderful way to pull out of an awkward situation. With children around, you’re not always this lucky. I like this woman even more now, and I’m adding “saloon owner” to my list of her possible former occupations. ¶ Holly Hester lives in Sebastopol and writes about life on her blog, Riot Ranch. Find her book, Escape from Ugly Mom Island!, on Amazon.
April 2017 www.sonomafamilylife.com