Over the weekend, I took the boys for a treat. They helped me in the yard and they were thirsty. We popped into a coffee place. The boys, ages six and four, love cold vanilla milk with whipped cream. As we’re getting out of the car, my oldest says, “My hand is stuck in my pocket!” I looked over, and sure enough he seemingly could not remove his hand from his pocket. I said, “Why can’t you pull your hand out?”
Still sitting in the van, he explained how he put some chocolate in his pocket a few days before. I jumped out and helped his younger brother out of the back. Trent turned the corner from the passenger side. He was finally able to pull his hand out of the pocket.
His right hand was covered in melted milk chocolate. He held it in the air as if celebrating his free hand. The eyes of those in the drive thru were clearly glued to his every move. As he held his hand over his head yelling, “Look Daddy!” he noticed just how much chocolate was covering his entire hand. He decided to lick his hand and fingers. Hey, we do it with good ‘ol fried chicken, why not a little chocolate fondu finger?
I sorta laughed and told him we needed to go wash it off. We are still crossing the drive thru lane at this point, and all these eyes were fixed on Trent. They had these strange looks on their faces. It was the unmistakable look of disgust. And then it hit me, they thought he had something horrible on his hand. I begin to explain as if they could read my lips…CHOCOLATE, HE IS EATING CHOCOLATE. A couple of the drive thru folks begin to laugh, but others were trying to understand my words. It probably just made things worse.
Well, circumstances aren’t always what they appear to be. I have on occasion mis-read the scene, only to come to the wrong conclusion. Have you ever done that? Just some food for thought.
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