On Sunday, Mouse_Spouse, the Mouseling and I ran some errands. At the local Target, we split up. I got into the Starbuck’s line with the Mouseling and Spouse went to the restroom.
While I was placing my order, someone rushed past me and started pushing my cart – with the Mouseling in it - toward the door. I screamed, “Hey! Stop!” and chased the cart. The child-thief turned and grinned at me. It was Mouse_Spouse. He thought that this little stunt was very funny; I wanted to disembowel him. :mad:
My cry of alarm attracted a lot of attention. A security guard and a very serious looking man approached us.
“Is everything alright?” the guard asked.
“Yes. We’re fine, thank you.”
“I know the lady,” the barista said. “She’s here with her baby all of the time. I don’t know the man.” I’ve been outted as an pricey caffeine junkie. Wonderful. (Maybe I stick out at the coffee cart because I order chai tea?)
The stern gentleman stepped forward and identified himself as an off-duty police officer. “What’s going on here?” he asked.
I glared at Mouse_Spouse as a chilling thought came to me: infants don’t carry ID. We had no way to prove that the Mouseling was our child, and, at that moment, I did not want to admit to marrying an idiot.
Spouse explained that he was playing a joke on me. The cop was not happy. He stated that endangering children was not funny and asked for our identification. Same last name, same address, my restrained rage, Spouse’s sheepish demeanor – all of this must have convinced the officer that we were a family. He returned our licenses, advised Spouse against any more pranks and left.
With everyone on the planet staring at us, and my heart racing without the aid of a plant-derived stimulant, I turned on Mouse_Spouse. “Whatthefuckwereyouthinking!” I hissed.
He gave me a wide berth for the rest of the day. If he pulls some sort of April fool’s joke, I may end up on prison. *I don’t look good in orange. I don’t look good in orange. *