It was another ordinary day at Target. Emma and Andrew ran around the toy aisles. I browsed around for new blu-rays and video games. Lisa stocked up on douches and deodorants. Typical day.
We had to take the elevator upstairs to finish our shopping, and although we usually don't try to push our way into a crowded elevator, we did this time. There was another couple with a child, and a grizzly man with a vintage Pac-Man t-shirt.
Andrew was playing around with a box of band-aids when it fell from his hands. The box fell right in the middle of the elevator doors as it was closing. I think I must've thought I would look like a hero to Andrew because I shouted, "Don't worry! I got it!" I rammed my shoulders against the elevator doors and bent down to pick up the undamaged band-aid box. And then I proudly handed over the band-aid box to Andrew as if I was handing him a cure for diaper rash.
The other couple and the Pac-Man dude didn't say anything, so I decided to break the awkward silence. I looked at Andrew and jokingly said, "Wow, Andrew! Your band-aid box almost needed a band-aid." So sure, it wasn't quite a home run joke, but I figured it was amusing enough for an elevator audience.
The other couple grinned, but Mr. Grizzly Pac-Man guy didn't even break a smile. I looked thinking Blinky, Pinky, Inky, and Clyde were just around the corner. But the Pac-Man dude just rolled his eyes and grumbled, "Geez...I got to get out of here." And with that, the elevator door opened and off he rolled off possibly looking for a power pellet.
At first, I was insulted that a stranger could be so turned off with a friendly conversation between a father and his son. How could anyone begrudge such a darling, angelic face? And Andrew ain't that bad looking either.
But then I slowly realized that Andrew had nothing to do with Mr. Grumpy Pants's reaction in the elevator. It was all me! He could have cared less if Andrew peed all over his vintage video game t-shirt, but if I cracked one more bad joke, he would've Donkey Konged my ass.
I guess I take for granted that most people will find humor -- good or bad -- with children and parents. But there is a group of people out there who have no interest or patience for families...and bad jokes. There's nothing wrong with that, but sometimes you do hope and wish for a certain amount of tolerance. And believe me, raising twins needs a great amount of tolerance. But Lisa would argue that even more tolerance is needed to live with me.
...I think she's right...
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