The Coffee Shop

A coffee shop is not a place for kids. I just took them in cause we had some time to kill before an event we were early for. Being early isn’t cool. I’ve been that person putting on the event when the early birds show up. Then you have to juggle frantically getting everything ready and also maintaining some kind of polite chit chat with the early birds. Not cool. But I’m getting off track.

I took them in just so we wouldn’t have to sit in the car. But, as soon as I said they could have a drink to share I knew I was in trouble. The stand-off that ensued was not all that unusual but today it was infuriating. Why can’t they be empathetic with each other. “What would you like to have, sister?” “Well, that’s not what I would prefer but I don’t always have to have things my way. Let’s have what you want this time.” Is that too much to ask from a 7 year old and 4 year old? Yes? Oh alright.

Then, the little one has her hands on everything. Perrier. Straws. Cookies. “Just stop!” I whisper yelled. I’m pretty good at whisper yelling. It is not my best feature.

Finally, we sit, and I realize that there is not one child, besides mine, in the entire shop. Instead it is filled with students. College students in study groups and adults who can’t be much older than the students, meeting together to have meaningful conversations, I’m sure. Occasionally they glance over at me and I try to play it cool. “Here I am with my kids. Totally not frazzled. Totally in control. Just having coffee. How sophisticated of me.” They aren’t buying it.

And neither am I. “We’ve got to get out of here," I say after the third potty break in 15 minutes. “Let’s get back in the car.” Cause our minivan is a haven for our crazy. And I'm not that sophisticated anyway.

Linking up with Just Write again. Loving the free writing exercises.