Last night I was upset about something and in a really bad mood. I took Justin and Alex to the library because I wanted to get out for a bit. They were behaving very well until we went to check out the books and they started fighting over who got to scan them. Justin whacked Alex over the head with a book.
As I comforted Alex, a little boy came up to me, pointed at Justin, and asked, “What’s his name?”
“Justin,” I said.
“I hate you, Justin,” the kid said. Great, I thought, there must have been an incident with the train set or Justin shot him a dirty look or something. Always assume the worst. Even so, I didn’t think that statement was necessary.
“Why did you say that?” I asked him, definitely invoking a “tone” in my voice.
“What?” he asked, looking confused.
“Why did you say that?” I practically demanded, not appreciating his little innocent act.
“Because…I like meeting people,” he said, looking up at me as if I were some psycho nutcase.
It was then I realized that he’d said, “Nice to meet you, Justin.”
“Oh, um, I’m sorry, I thought you said something else. Nevermind. Justin? This boy wants to meet you,” I stammered.
“I don’t want to,” Justin said defiantly.
At that point I thought it best to just gather up our stuff and hightail it out of there.
© Jennifer Alys Windholz, 2010