I'm in charge of Captain D Jr. this fine Friday evening, and baby bear has a temperature and possibly the strep throat. Strep throat is a four letter curse word that is worse than any spell you could even wand at me. When someone in my office says "I think I have strep or something" my psychosematic tendencies go straight into overdrive. *POOF* itchy throat and swollen tonsils. Anyways, not the point of this story.
So, here I am with a wilted and sad six year old who's only chance at making it through the night was to get several movies at Blockbuster, and the lady behind the counter refuses to give me the movies because I am not Mrs. Captain D. Oh boy. Here we are, I'm holding a very sick, deadweight, gangly boy, AND trying not to breathe the same air as he is, AND trying to reason with this woman. I would like to take this opportunity to say YOU ARE WELCOME as I am not going to paint a picture with my words as to what this woman looked like, but it was very apparent that she was destined to be the gatekeeper of "Horton Hears a Who". Finally Jake looks up at the Blockbuster nazi and says "LADY, I'M SICK AND TIRED AND I WANNA GO HOME, SO GIVE US THE MOVIES".
It worked. I swiped the card, signed my name and ran for our lives before she decided to stupefy us or call the cops for fraud (I used Mrs. Captain D's credit card, and told her that I didn't have my ID on me because it had been stolen. Which is not a lie, I have had my ID stolen twice...)
Amazingly enough, I was so shocked and stunned that I didn't start laughing hysterically until we got to the car. Out of sheer curiousity, I asked Jake why he yelled at the Blockbuster lady, and he says this: I don't get what her problem is. We give her the money, she gives us the movies. It's easy.
Oh life through the eyes of a six year old. Never afraid to say what he means or what he 'needs' and most definitely not afraid to be firm about his intentions when someone is being less than accomodating. I need to take a lesson.
