Recently, I had occasion to be hosting an event for children. The ‘for children’ aspect is important to note as I relay the rest of this story to you. Did you take note of that? A CHILDREN’S event.
This children’s event began with a reception. Since a reception is synonymous with free food and drink, there was indeed a cake and juice to be enjoyed by our guests.
I was doling out slices of cake when I was approached by a woman, in her sixties at a minimum:
Do you think I could have my cake for later?
As she said this, she pulled a TUPPERWARE CONTAINER out of her PURSE complete with a handy masking tape label on the lid and indicated that I should drop a piece of cake into it for her. She may have even shaken it a little at me, as in, “Hurry up minion, get a move on.” But perhaps my memory is just embellishing.
I wrestled my face under control and tried to stop my eye from twitching.
My worser self wanted to become a cake nazi and exclaim “NO! You mad cow. Give me that container and stop embarrassing yourself. No cake for you!”
My better self tried to rationalize: “Maybe she can’t take sugar this early in the morning. She’s just trying to manage her own digestive system. It’s not like ONLY the kids are allowed to have cake.”
I paused. My two selves wrestled. Thankfully, my better self won out and I GRACIOUSLY, and I cannot emphasize this enough, GRACIOUSLY placed a piece of cake in the proferred Tupperware. There. Awkward moment over.
But no, having found a patsy, she wasn’t done with me. Oh no.
Do you think I could have two pieces?
I paused. My two selves wrestled yet again. I gave one very long Buster Keaton blink before I CALMLY, and I also cannot emphasize this enough, CALMLY explained to her, that I was expecting another hundred guests so maybe we should get through everyone’s first piece before I started handing out seconds.
Oh, well then.
She closed her Tupperware container with a sharp snap that I believe was the Tupperware equivalent of slamming a door and harumphed off.
Yes, I believe the correct word is harumphed.
I can tell you, the whole incident gave me pause. Having been at the receiving end of many a sixty-year-old woman’s glare as Griffin had yet another temper tantrum in the grocery store, or the library, or church, or restaurant, (I have mentioned he was a very difficult toddler haven’t I?) it now gives me great delight to say:
Excuse me. Could you control your elder please? She is disturbing me. Honestly. Some people’s grandparents.