I Am Not in My Right Mind. Or My Left, Sadly.

I am tooling around Target with The Hub and The (Big) GrandBoy. Big Grand is sitting in the cart, sort of, because he's going through this  difficult endearing phase where sitting in the appointed seat is so last month. It takes a great deal of energy/bribery to keep Big Grand safely seated and appropriately entertained.

So, The Hub is driving the cart like a Drunk Race Car Driver and he is saying, vroom vroom and Big Grand is sipping a red icee through a straw and is dribbling red stuff on his shirt in vroom vroom delight while eating multi-colored goldfish crackers because these grandparents do not care about food colorings and additives in the diets of the Grands as long as the child is happy and thinks we are freaking awesome.

We are on an aisle with lots of balls because GrandPop and Big Grand are now playing catch, except not really, because BG is sipping a red icee and munching on multi-colored goldfish. So, GrandPop is playing catch, yes.

A Fellow Shopper, late twenties maybe, says May I ask you a personal question?

Note: The question itself makes me giddy. I love personal questions.

He picks up a stability exercise ball, one of the giant ones. I see his receding hairline over the ball. He is squeezing the ball a little because he seems a little nervous and says Did you use a birthing ball when you had your baby? and he is gesturing over the ball with his head toward Big Grand.

I feel a little smug smile creeping across my lips, like the Grinch. First of all, The Hub and I cannot possibly be this child's parents. Aside from the obvious age issues, we are cruising around Target like crazy fools with a shopping cart while feeding the child red icees and multi-colored goldfish! No parent in his right mind would behave so recklessly.

Note: Clearly we are Grandparents. We have no right mind.

For some reason, I am frozen, in my amusement.

The Hub rescues me in my unusual silence and pipes up to Fellow Shopper, Actually, he is our Grandson.

I am thinking, Does this mean he doesn't want to hear my birthing experiences? but I find myself saying unnecessary things like, People make that mistake all then time, which is not true, and things like, I hear that lots of women like a birthing ball, which may be true but I do not know this for a fact and even things like, If I were having a baby today, I might try one, which is definitely not true because if I were having a baby today I would be too drugged up to even know my own name.

Note: I may be exaggerating, slightly.

Fellow Shopper slinks away. Without the ball, sadly.

The Hub is grinning and eating multi-colored Goldfish crackers.

Big Grand offers me a sip of his red icee. I oblige, dribbling red stuff down my shirt.

Heck, yes!