Zed attends Little Gym once a week. On that evening, either Ella or I will take The Center Of The Universe Zoey out for dinner and somewhere fun. Last night, Zoey and I went to the Cultural Arts Center.
She loves going there. She gets to play with clay, make friendship bracelets, paint, draw, and build things. I love it because it's free. And nothing sets my heart aflutter like that beautiful little word.
But since it's downtown, it's always full of hoity-toity mothers and their offspring. And even though it's free, these women think the Center should cater to their every whim and give their young Prestons and Caitlyns individual attention. Zoey was painting while I watched one mom offering suggestions to one of the Center's volunteers.
"My little boy can't sit at this table. There's not enough room!"
"You really should put something over here. There's a lot of unused space in that corner."
"You need more volunteers!"
I looked over and saw a cool mom shaking her head in disbelief. Her eyes met mine and we had the following conversation via a series of eye rolls, arched eyebrows, and shakes of the head (at least this is how I like to believe our conversation went):
Me: What is her damage?
Cool Mom: I know. I can't believe this bitch.
Me: Seriously! It's free. Learn to deal.
Cool Mom: Yup. [While nodding at my shirt] I see you're a Yankees fan.
Me: Yes. You?
Cool Mom: Red Sox.
Me: Oh.
Cool Mom: So which team do you think did worse at the trade deadline?
Me: It's a tossup.
Cool Mom: You guys needed bullpen help. And what did you do? Got rid of your most reliable setup man. And for a utility infielder? Morons.
Me: I know. I can't believe they did that. But what about you guys? You needed a bat. You should've really made a push for Dye. But instead you picked up Gagne. You already had the best one-two punch bullpen in the league. You guys need to have a lead before you can turn out the lights with Gagne, Okajima, and Papelbon. You needed a bat. Idiots.
Cool Mom: I know. But at least neither of our teams gave up any quality prospects this year! Unlike some teams…
Me: Stupid Braves.
Cool Mom: Word.
Even though I was having fun eyebrow-talking baseball with this mom, my attention quickly turned back to the Hoity-Toity Bitch. She had moved on from the Center volunteer and had started berating her son.
"Preston! Stop spilling paint on your shirt."
If you didn't want him to get messy, lady, you brought him to the wrong place. Preston then decided to make a frame for his masterpiece.
"Preston! You're not doing that right!"
Jeez, this woman needs to chill out. Poor kid.
"Preston! Can't you cut a straight line?"
Somebody needs to put this woman in her place.
"Preston! You're doing that all wrong! Just let me do it!"
That was enough. I summoned all my courage, cleared my throat, opened my mouth, and said--
"Jesus Christ, woman! It's art! There is no right or wrong!"
Only those words didn't come out of my mouth. It was Cool Mom who said those words. She was the one with the cojones, not I. I smiled at her and she smiled back as Hoity-Toity Bitch gathered Preston and scurried out of the Center. We continued our eyebrow conversation while our daughters finished their paintings.
Me: Thank you.
Cool Mom: No problem. It needed to be said.
Me: Word. You know we're going to be leading the AL East by mid-September, right?
Cool Mom: In your dreams, pal.
Song of the day: Girls & Boys by Blur
When Art, Baseball, And Hoity-Toity Bitches Collide
