parenting for MORONS!

i was at work on wednesday, minding my business. up at the registers we have a vendor's ice freezer with a large see-thru glass door. now all last week local temperatures were peaking about 94, 96 Fahrenheit--needless to say we sold out all pools, air-conditioners, most deodorant and 90% of our ice. in fact the only bags that were left in the freezer were the ones that stuck to the sides and very bottom because they were packed in too tightly. an average person could fit inside this freezer, and its vacant space inside was quite a tempting sight--but don't get ahead of us, now. it's not what you think. sort of.

so, back to mindin' my own business. i'm putting some unwanted merchandise away at the registers, walking back and forth and i feel this breeze. it was awfully refreshing, as it had that humidity-free tinge of recirculated air. Mmmmm. I turn and i see a small boy--not too small, about ten or twelve--opening and closing the door of the freezer.

"whatever". [[don't get ahead of me!]]

back to what i'm doing, counting down the minutes to the end of mah shift. I notice the constant rubbery "fump" of the door opening and closing has stopped and the motor has switched gears. turn around.

he's got his left leg inside the freezer, perched inside. he's just hanging out, airing out his prepubescent junk.

"honey, get out of there!" [[in my most stern and mothering tone.]]

he barely looks at me, just closes the door. turn around. back to my shopping carts full of crap. i go to walk across the front of the store to the other end and i notice the boy isn't there, door is closed. i look IN the freezer.

well, you got this part already.

biggest grin on his freezing little face. hands open slapping the inside of the door like a monkey. he kneels down on the sheet of ice sealing the bags beneath them on the floor of the freezer.

i go to the supervisor's counter where the phone is and stand all official and loudly ask our loyal patrons:

"whose kid is this in the freezer?", pointing to the blue boy dancing on the picnic ice behind the heavy rubber-rimmed glass door.

eight women look up, not one of them says a word. no one claims him.

i turn my head and he's slowly climbed out. almost ashamed, almost. i make the mistake of my day--turn my head again.

you know what he's done.

i hit the "page" button on the phone for security and a manager.

i hear "oh, hohoho! he wants to be frozen! hahahaha!" and she walks him out of the store like nothing's happened. she was in front of me the whole time, getting checked out by another cashier.

with the exception of the obvious and hilarious, two very wrong things were involved in this incident.

1. The mother was oblivious. did not know anything, did not CARE. couldn't be bothered with her child or his whereabouts. thought the whole thing was adorable and hilarious.

2. i left his one rather genius [not really, sort of] detail out of the incident:

as little timmy sonofabitch is playing with the freezer door, you hear this constant "thhuck, foomp. thhuck, foomp" as the door opens and closes. it is a heavy metal and glass door with a rather sticky rubber gasket to help it seal itself.

as this child--who's old enough [between ten and twelve] to understand concepts like "heavy door", "suffocation"--is having the time of his life airing out his gonads in a public freezer, the thought has not occurred to him that if the door is hard to open from the outside it may be difficult to push open from the inside.

for this kid, logic dictates that the when you're having a hard time opening tricky door to a frozen wunderhaus, the best thing to do is to simply climb inside and see if that middle school math helps to calculate the rapidly decreasing fresh air.


a dear coworker turned to me, and with all the grace and wisdom she could muster from her sixty-odd years on this planet she looked at me and said: "it's a different world, Nadia."