Well, it’s official. One moment in time has 100% stamped in concrete the definition of who I am. Dad and Dog Owner.
The other day I was at my local grocery store, and it came time to pay. For the first time in months, I had an excess of cash in my wallet and coins in my pocket, so I opted to use real money instead of flaunting the plastic as I usually do.
I handed her the proper number of bills, and got excited at the change count because I knew I was going to be able to pay in exact change (the bar to excite me is set pretty low, I know). I plunged my hands into my pockets to find the monies I knew were within, and found a barricade of “stuff” in between me and the final moments of my transaction. I tried to get around it, but to no avail. The “stuff” had to come out if I was going to make it to the coins.
In retrospect, I wish I would have just given her another one dollar bill and went on my way. What I did do was begin emptying impossible amounts of crap onto the counter.
The first thing I pulled out was a poop bag. A special bag made for one purpose, and one purpose only. Picking up your dog’s crap when you’re out and about. I slapped it on the counter. Next I pulled out a handful of dog biscuits. After that, a snack-sized Ziploc bag full of M&Ms (I’m not even kidding). With each item I presented, another kept seeming to take its place. By now the girl at the cash register was starting to show her annoyance at the line forming behind me. I got to the bottom, and… no money.
So I went to the other pocket. Another poop bag. (I carry two cause sometimes my dog thinks of the term “dropping a twosie” quite literally). After that, a Happy Meal action figure that Noah had asked me to carry. After that, a handful of crayons. After that… [cue angelic choir] the coins for which I had been so desperately digging.
And then, after all that… I counted them out, and found I was six cents short. SIX FREAKIN’ CENTS. I was SO sure that I had enough change. I gave her another dollar bill, grossly bulged my pocket with even more change, and shuffled Noah, our new belongings, and our poop bags outside before any more dirty looks could hurt us with their poisonous stings.
Dan Pearce, Single Dad Laughing