No Harm Done

Saturday, November 05, 2005

Feeling badly About Yourself? Read This Entry and Watch Your Spirits Soar!!

So this afternoon Colson and I hit the town to run errands. We went to Hobby Lobby to buy the making of Christmas presents. Then we drove to Best Buy to pick up a cable and tried unsuccessfully to buy a refill ink cartridge for our printer. (Curses!! Foiled by Dell again!!) The last stop was to the grocery store to buy ingredients for the soup and pies for tomorrow's potluck at church.

At the grocery store checkout, Colson flirted with the clerk and chatted with the bagboy. (He's always in his element in places like the grocery store. He loves having lots of people to wave and say hi to.) The checkout clerk tickled Colson and then said to me, "He's so cute!! Are you the mom or the grandma?"

I froze. I'm quite certain that time stopped. Not sure I heard her correctly, I asked, "What?"

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the bagboy cover his face with one of his hands. Smart boy. He must have a mother or sisters who taught him well, because he knew the clerk had made a serious faux pas, even if the clerk did not.

And she clearly did not, because she repeated her question: "I asked if you were his mom or his grandma?"

I looked at her from under hooded eyelids, trying not to glare or get cobra-necked (as Crib Chick would say). With probably too much force I said, "I'm his mother!"

It was at this point that the clerk realized her error, and tried valiantly to retrace her steps and make amends. She talked rapidly in a slightly higher-pitched voice as the bagboy packed my cart with lightning speed and sympathetic glances. I really don't remember much of what she said. I just heard," Blah, blah, blah, Ginger."

I sat in the car afterwards and called a friend with a great sense of humor, simply because I knew he'd be able to make me laugh.

It was just this summer that I blogged about receiving my AARP membership age 34! Being asked if I'm a grandmother was quite a blow to my ego, and came from a completely unexpected direction. It's probably good that we have these moments from time to time.

I'm sure everyone will understand why the cookies Colson and I bought for dessert tonight never made it home!


At 2:42 AM , Blogger Dy said...

Oh, Hillary, I feel your pain. Does it help to know a lady at our Wonderful Realtor's office looked at the ultrasounds of the baby and asked me if it was my first granddaughter? I was so stunned, I stuttered when I asked her, "W-w-w-what?!?". Wonderful Realtor stifled a snortish stunned sound while the THREE SMALL CHILDREN OF MY WOMB ran around me, singing INTO MY PREGNANT BELLY... and she wondered if this was my granddaughter we were looking at. *sigh*

I hit Sonic on the way home for a gigantic Cherry-Limeaid to sooth my evidently road-weary body. By the time I got home, I'd decided that it's because I'm so "with-it" and "composed" that she thought they couldn't be my kids. ;-) You can run w/ that, if you need to.

At 9:21 AM , Anonymous Melissa said...

Whoa! How rude!

While I haven't been mistaken for a grandma...yet, I have been asked "When are you due?" when I certainly was not expecting...if that'll make you feel any better.

One time, a checker commented to me,"You must not like to cook." After questioning him, he explained that since I was buying some frozen vegetables, I must not like to cook. Okay.

I think these people ought to be contributors to that Lexicon of Stupidity that you have in your book list.


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