Well, it's that time again. Time for another fantabulous story about the halfling. It's a rare occasion that someone other than myself is privy to his humorous zingers, so it is especially nice when a friend (real or imaginary) is there to bear witness.
We were enjoying a heart healthy meal at McDonald's the other day, and were preparing to leave the impeccably clean Play Place to go home. The halfling, being ever the sport about leaving, was stalling.
Stalling is an art form, and he is a master artist.
If you haven't learned to properly stall by the time you can walk, you never will. Only the best and brightest children learn how to stall so that it appears they are not stalling at all. Only a wise Mother knows what the hell is really going on.
Like, for example, this scenario:
Mom: "It's time for bed, I'll tuck you in!"
Child: "I really like cuddling with you."
Mom:"OK, you can watch one more TV show."
The kid is obviously stalling. Sure, an optimist type mother likes to think that her child really likes cuddling with her. But the smart Mom knows that the little shit just wants to watch another TV show.
I am a smart Mom.
But, I am sure you already knew that.
Normally, the task of putting on shoes and socks takes about 1-2 minutes. The "expert staller" child can drag this process out for up to 10 minutes. Maybe more, if he's really good.
Now, I am not sure why the "putting on of shoes" task was chosen this bright, sunny day to prolong the playing experience at McDonald's.... Hiding at the top of the McDonald's Play Place and refusing to come down would have been much more effective. God knows I am not crawling my fat ass up there to drag him down. I'll be more than happy to order me a McFlurry and wait until the little freak gets hungry, has to pee, or tires of the cramped, smelly walls of that plastic wonderland. And I am not against enlisting another child to go up there and drag his ass down.
Today, the halfling decided that taking 3o minutes to put his shoes on was the best route to stay at McDonald's to play.
I was tired and annoyed. I was ready to leave.
While I was waiting for the "expert staller" to finish the shoe and sock charade, my friend Jessica and I were talking about the 1980's. I can't remember what brought up the subject, but it piqued the halfling's interest.
He asked when I was born.
I told him I was born in 1977.
And he rolled his eyes and gawked. Then he said this:
"Ugh, was that like during the Civil War?"
Why yes! Yes it was!
Little Fucker.
I made him walk barefoot to the car for that one.
