It's All Right, Dad
I was standing in line at a fast-food joint one day last week- Wendy's - (Go Figure) - waiting on lunch during a trip out of town.
The guy behind me was wearing a Yankee hat so I commented about the lack of hitting (A-Rod is stealing 30 mil a year as is Tex).
The guy answered me with something about how they'd turn it around eventually. I started to agree when my thought was interrupted by a groan and a shout from the guy's son who I pegged to be about 15 and mentally retarded.
"I told you not to yell things," the father said to the boy.
"I'm sorry," the guy said to me.
"That's okay," I said.
"Do you know my Dad from work?" the kid yelled at me.
Once more the father tried to hush the kid, and once more he apologized to me.
"That's okay," I said again. "I know your Dad because he's a Yankee fan."
"I'm a Yankee fan too," the kid shouted.
The Dad was awfully uncomfortable, and he once again asked the child to be quiet. I didn't know what to do so I turned away.
"Where's Dave Thomas?" the kid asked his father a few minutes later.
Once more the kid's voice really carried. A few people in line ahead of me giggled.
"Keep it down!" the father scolded.
And man, I tell you, I thought of my kids and how blessed I am despite the fact that they drive me crazy from time-to-time. And it must be my Catholic upbringing but I said a quick prayer for the boy behind me in line and for his father, who seemed a bit impatient to me.
But it's gotta' be tough.
I ordered my food and stepped off to the side and the boy stepped in line and in his clear, booming voice, ordered his food.
Perfectly.
I couldn't help but glance over at his Dad, who was beaming at his son. He rubbed the boy's head and smiled.
"I did good, huh?" the kid asked.
"Dave Thomas would be proud," his Dad said.
And this time the laughter was shared.
Some people have it tougher than we do.
They just do.
The guy behind me was wearing a Yankee hat so I commented about the lack of hitting (A-Rod is stealing 30 mil a year as is Tex).
The guy answered me with something about how they'd turn it around eventually. I started to agree when my thought was interrupted by a groan and a shout from the guy's son who I pegged to be about 15 and mentally retarded.
"I told you not to yell things," the father said to the boy.
"I'm sorry," the guy said to me.
"That's okay," I said.
"Do you know my Dad from work?" the kid yelled at me.
Once more the father tried to hush the kid, and once more he apologized to me.
"That's okay," I said again. "I know your Dad because he's a Yankee fan."
"I'm a Yankee fan too," the kid shouted.
The Dad was awfully uncomfortable, and he once again asked the child to be quiet. I didn't know what to do so I turned away.
"Where's Dave Thomas?" the kid asked his father a few minutes later.
Once more the kid's voice really carried. A few people in line ahead of me giggled.
"Keep it down!" the father scolded.
And man, I tell you, I thought of my kids and how blessed I am despite the fact that they drive me crazy from time-to-time. And it must be my Catholic upbringing but I said a quick prayer for the boy behind me in line and for his father, who seemed a bit impatient to me.
But it's gotta' be tough.
I ordered my food and stepped off to the side and the boy stepped in line and in his clear, booming voice, ordered his food.
Perfectly.
I couldn't help but glance over at his Dad, who was beaming at his son. He rubbed the boy's head and smiled.
"I did good, huh?" the kid asked.
"Dave Thomas would be proud," his Dad said.
And this time the laughter was shared.
Some people have it tougher than we do.
They just do.
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