Actually, it IS Rocket Science

Karate kid

Even though my summer vacation just started, most kids have been off for a while now, and its effects are starting to show, mostly on their parents faces.  If I open my door or look out my window, I will no doubt see the typical summer vignette, which is as follows:

Any number of children running around acting like goblins and puppies, wailing and screeching at the top of their lungs (you know, that scream that makes you wonder why they ever made vocal chords able to reach that eardrum-rupturing pitch), while one, single, solitary adult looks on in disinterest, possibly on the verge of crying unconsolably.  Because when you think about it, being an adult who has to watch over the neighborhood children is not that far off from being the designated driver at a party and watching all of your friends get stupid and have to play along and act like what Joey just said is, in fact, the funniest shit that was ever said on the entire planet.

Last week I was at the grocery store when I noticed something that made me realize just how bad things have gotten on this road to mindless sadness that parents are forced to detour down every year.

I was searching through the produce aisle, picking up peach after peach to locate the best one and thinking of how bullshit it was that I had to continuously smell and give the pinch test to each one and goddammitwhydoIalwaysgetstucklookinglikeTHATasshole when I finally gave up and moved toward the bakery section when I noticed a kid doing something, I don’t know, something unordinary.  I don’t know how else to describe coming up on someone repeatedly PUNCHING THE SHIT out of loaves of bread.  Just, Kuh-JOOOUUUW!  It merited some type of Batman-type onomatopoeia.

Not kidding.  This kid repeatedly punched the everloving hell out of the loaves of bread in a very educated fashion.  Between multigrain and day old white, this child used these loaves of sliced bread like his own punching bags.  And they reacted as most porous yeast-driven entities would.  They crumbled.  And this kid was relentlessly driving his hands into them at Bruce Lee force to do whatever it took to collapse them as well as their souls.

But it’s not like he was trying to be covert about this process.  Because every time he would strike another loaf of bread, he’d make this sound:

Which is when everybody around them gave the nonverbal message of :  Dude.  Fucking. check. your. kid.

No kidding.  People who had long-since met the age requirements for being grandparents gave the stink-eye to this ninja-in-training’s-mother.  Like, how hard can it be?  HOW HARD CAN IT BEEEEEEE.  Negating the fact that they’ve probably already watched and taken care of multitudes of generations of little badasses like this one.

Then I looked over and I saw her.  The ninja’s mother.  The woman who was receiving the most angsty looks that geriatrics can possibly offer.  And I’ll tell you the truth.  It was at once the saddest as well as the most hilarious thing I think I’ve ever seen.

Think about it this way: Have you ever had to babysit someone who just had their wisdom teeth pulled out yet they were dead set on going to Wal-Mart that afternoon and you agreed to take them because you knew you’d be at their apartment to take care of them but they hadn’t thought to pick up toilet paper before getting on heavy medication and then they became 25-year-old toddlers because you wouldn’t bring them into the subway at the entrance of Wal-Mart simply because they can’t eat solid food and you have to make sure they don’t do anything stupid like that or falling face first into a ravine even though you wouldn’t be totally opposed to that idea right about now?  THAT’S the look this woman had.

Over it.

This woman was so completely over it that she didn’t even mind the condescending looks from those around her.  She took those angry stares and shoved them so far down into her personal psyche that she won’t have to deal with them until she becomes demented in her later years, and by then it will be someone else’s problem.

She looked up and after noticing these douches around her gave a weak, patronizing offer of, “Bobby wait… don’t… don’t do that.”

Because she already knew she was fighting a losing battle.  The hi-yah kid would not be quelled.

And at that moment, when this woman finally gave the fuck up on the fact that her beloved, begotten son was ruining the majority of the baked goods, as well as her morning, and that she was being held responsible for his dipshit actions, I found it to be the most hilarious thing I’d seen in a long time.  Because anyone that is that disillusioned to think that a 5-year-old boy will find logic in anything you’re saying, let alone sit through hearing you out, then you deserve to have all of your sandwich bread karate punched repeatedly against your knowledge.  This is how kids occupy their time.  You can’t find fault with their parents for it; it’s not like the parents are instructing them which items to seek out and demolish in the store.  Kids are the universal assholes.  And we love them for it.  We actually envy them for it.  So suck it up, grab the loaf behind the punched down ones, and stop giving their mom the eat-shit face.  You were an asshole once, too, just don’t make it a repeat performance.


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