Rafael cried in the checkout line of Dagostino’s. Wailed in the checkout line of Dagostino’s. He wails and other people look. Other people look at him. Is there something wrong? Is something squeezing his baby legs? His baby arms? His baby hands? No, so they look at me. Why are you letting him cry like this? Don’t you think he’s asking you for something? Is he hungry? Is he thirsty? He’s probably tired. Take him home. This message is for you woman with panama jack hat, brown dress material made up of a potato sack, who was behind me in line just a moment ago.
Is this your baby?
Yes, I’m his Father.
He looks upset.
Wow. How did you see that? Wait a minute, are you that behavior specialist?
Yeah, I read about this in the Times. You did that thesis on infants at checkout-lines.
No, not me. I mean, I have kids. I’m a Mom.
Yeah, you can tell that. For sure, you have great experience.
I think he’s tired.
Is that it? Yeah, that’s what those red marks around his eyes are.
Exactly. You’ll pick it up.
Thank you so much. Really glad I ran into you.
Potato Sack! I’ll pick you up and throw you over the counter. I was joking. I was lying. I was being sarcastic but politely sarcastic which means you don’t get what I’m doing- Do I tell you to put back those lean cuisines and learn how to cook? And cash-register person, Galicia (unless you were wearing someone else’s name tag). Do I make fun of you when you need a void? “Ha! She pushed the wrong code for green peppers!” No. So kindly, hide that smirk a little better. I’m sure you’ve got it in you.