Kids Say the Darndest Things

I love the radio. I know this. My ex-fatwhoreroommate knows this. And now you know this. But in particular, I love The Morning X. I listen every day. I laugh. I drive to work.

You get the picture.

So yesterday, I'm driving to work and the subject arises of embarrassing child stories and hooo-BOY! did I have a good one!

As I may have previously mentioned, (or if I haven't, I'm mentioning it now, damnit!) Corey has a 6-year-old brother, Casey. And in the fashion of any 6-year-old, Casey wants to do everything and go everywhere that Corey (ergo, we) go.

If we are going somewhere that might be fun or has ice cream or something that it seems would appeal to a child, we grab his car seat and take him. For example, the mall.

Now, the Lakeside Mall of my childhood had a playground made up of giant foam-filled breakfast foods. Waffles, berries, shredded wheat, the works. But yeah, some genius decided that wasn't cool enough (WHAT. It was the coolest thing EVER and we used to pretend we were in Honey, I Shrunk the Kids.) or something equally misguided, and got rid of it, putting in its place, foam cars and trucks.

Woo-effing-hoo. I get it. We're in the Motor City.

Anyway, that day Casey accompanied us to the mall and since he'd been mostly good, we figured we'd let him wear himself out on the foam cars for a bit.

Now, let me take a moment to remind you that Corey and I are 20 years old and Casey is 14 years younger and when we take him places, we get dirty looks from old people and ugly married people that are jealous because our illegitimate bastard child is so adaorable and their's look like naked mole rats.

SO WE WERE ALREADY ON THIN ICE.

I was happy because the kid, normally kinda anti-social, seemed to be making friends with a chubby little blonde girl and her baby sister she'd been bossing around the whole time and the three of them were engaged in a wobbly game of Tag.

Corey was happy because we were no longer in the Disney store where Casey and I both became entirely too excited. It was a win-win-win.

Until.

Casey, trembling atop a foam ambulance shouted, evidently in a ploy to taunt his playmates, "COME AND GET ME, PUSSIES!"

And ohmygod. OH. MY. GOD. Did he just say what I think he said? Did he? WHAT DID THAT CHILD JUST SAY?

And we were all, CASEY WE HAVE TO GO RIGHT NOW. And we're shoving his shoes on and goddamnit, this stupid velcro and every time I try to adjust it, these stupid lights blink in my eyes and startwalkingwe'llputthemoninthecar!

So yeah, I kept calling the radio station and couldn't get through and had to email it. And yeah.

Love,
Katie

P.S. I also wanted to note that the other day I was falling asleep at my desk at work and decided to venture to the Starbucks downstairs for a latte to wake me up. So I get my latte and start to drink it at my desk and everyone keeps coming over looking at it going, "That looks like milk."

And I'm all, "It has milk on top." And I continue to drink it, waiting for my hot hazelnut milk to run out and my hot hazelnut espresso to begin.

Except, get this: it doesn't. Because dude forgot the coffee.

And hot hazelnut milk is okay and all, but Katie needs her fix.

The End.