Let me start by saying I have a baby fixation. I love babies! If it were up to me, I’m sure I would have had more children other than the two beautiful daughters I was blessed with, merely because I love babies! I love their smell. I love their sounds. I don’t even mind that eventually they grow up to be teenagers. I don’t care. I just love them!
Everyone around me also knows my fondness for children because I talk about it to everyone. Again, I would have had a Baker’s dozen if it were up to me. Unfortunately, I married one of the most logical men on the planet, who would have never let that happen. Instead, I fawn over other people’s babies whenever I see them.
One day, I was looking out the front window at the Diner while waiting for our lunch rush to start. Suddenly, a car pulled in and parked on the far side of the parking lot – even though the lot was almost empty. It was an old Cadillac. It was all pimped out with a custom paint job, fancy accessories, and a loud audio system. The kind of system that makes the pictures shake on the walls. I could hear his speakers pounding out some bass as he pulled in.
A large, young man got out of the driver’s seat. He was tall – well over 6 feet – and decked out in a New York Yankees baseball team get-up. He looked like a Yankee’s billboard with his baseball ball cap and a matching team jersey. As he walked, you could tell he thought he was all that in a bag of chips.
Then, behind him, making his way from the passenger side of the car, was the cutest little twin. “Too cute, actually,” I thought to myself.
By now, my coworker Carol Ann had come over to see what I was getting all goofy about. She knew the signs that a child was underfoot. Also, a Jersey girl, she did appreciate their team spirit. Considering she, too, was a fan. However, she definitely didn’t get all warm and fuzzy over them.
“But look how cute they are,” I said as a child would about puppies as they approached the front door.
“Go ahead, you take them if it gets you so excited,” Carol Ann said as she walked away uncaringly.
“Okie dokie,” I said as I skipped off to prepare a table for them.
Once they entered the building, I realized I had the scenario completely wrong. When I went to greet the guys and give them menus, I felt ridiculous handing them a kid’s menu and a basket of crayons. It turns out I was not in front of a father and son at all. In fact, both men were of legal drinking age. Apparently, one gentleman was simply really small.
Talk about feeling like an idiot. I can almost bet I was not the first, nor would I be the last person on the planet to eat crow on that one, but that didn’t make me feel less stupid. Not to mention, according to Carol Ann, I lost out on a great tip because she had to wait on them while I hid in shame.
Then, during my moment, all our lunch regulars started shuffling in, and thanks to Carol Ann, everyone got a good giggle about how truly silly I am. “No harm, no foul,” I thought. “It just proves I’m a natural to be Mayor of Sillyville.”
However, if you know anyone who might want to run against me, send me a shout. I’m always up for a bit of competition.
Laugh on. Peace out!
Lisa DeMarco is a columnist for Villages-News.com.