After waiting in a long Starbucks line of fellow caffeine-addicts (with my cookie-addict of a 2 year old) I finally get close enough to the register to feel like there is hope of that sweet nectar soon running through my veins. In anticipation, I grab my phone to pull up my fancy Starbucks app and prepare to pay. (Because, I will NOT be that person who has stood in line forever and waits until the barista gives them their total before they pull out their form of payment like it is some shocking new sequence of events OR that person who has stood in line forever and waits until the barista asks for their order before they so much as look at the huge menu board that can be read by a blind person a mile away and pretty much everyone in the world has memorized by now.) But, back to the point...
My phone dies. Just dies. That stupid apple figure pops up on a black screen to mock me (you know the one). Was it on red/low battery for awhile? No. Had I accidentally turned it off? No. Had I brought my wallet in as a back up plan? No. Was I an idiot who decided to rely on technology? Yes.
I know I must make a quick decision. Do I try to explain to my kid that mommy is a moron and we cannot get the cookie he has been so patiently waiting on for 15 minutes, but we will run to the car and be right back? Or, do I make a mad dash out of the store and look like a crazy person? Obviously, I pick up my 30+ pound bundle of joy and sprint out of the store (of course the one time I am in Starbucks without my yoga pants and running shoes on). As he looks at me (along with the 9 million people in there) I just smile and say, "isn't this fun? Mommy is running!" To this, he cocks his head and his mouth falls open. I meant to catch him off guard and shock him out of crying, but wow- he was super confused.
Then it came. "Ummm... mama.... where Tuckie's cookie?" (Yes, my son's name is Tuck; and yes, he often refers to himself in third person, "Tuckie").
"Oh? Well, you see... oh look- bird!" as I point randomly up in the sky.
I make it to the car in record time (thank you very much) and grab my wallet. As soon as he sees the car door open he starts to get that look on his face of I am about to loose my sh*t if we get in this car without Tuckie's cookie. I slam the door shut and smile really big (the kind of big where you get automatic crazy eyes) and say (in a Count Von Count accent for some reason) "Oh-a-kay! Now it is a time to a go and a get Tuckie's cooookie. AH AH AH AH AH!"
As he glares at me (probably trying to decide if he should cry or if he should tell Daddy to have Mommy committed) I briskly walk back to the store, hoping to catch my breath before I reenter and face my audience.
Expecting an applause upon my arrival, I find myself slightly disappointed that no one seemed to have cared or even noticed. Or, they just felt bad for me and went with the "we just won't look at her" approach. And, of course, no one in line felt bad enough to let us get back in the front. When we make it back to the end of the line again, I can feel the daggers of confusion coming out of Tuck's eyes and burrowing into the side of my head. I continue to look straight ahead like everything is totally normal. I hear a simple, "Tuckie get apple juice box." Continuing to avoid eye contact I nod my head and say, "Yes. Yes, Tuckie get apple juice box."
At least they remembered the espresso this time.
Until a next a time- AH AH AH AH AH,
Count von Katie
P.S. This will hopefully be my final post of this series of Starbucks drama. Hopefully. Assuming karma decides to LET. IT. GO.
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