Bratty Little Brat

So my maternal little clock has been ticking in months of late. I don't think that's so bad, especially considering the grand old age I have already come to. I mean, people are settling down, have their own little rugrats, so I... flee the country. Fine. I still have my weaknesses to seeing small children in their constant endearing innocence. Sometimes, though, sometimes the world reminds me why I am not chomping at the bit to have my own little munchkin.

I went to the grocery store (yes, for the fourth time this week. Shut up.) and I had decided to purchase a plant, which was going to solve my need to nurture. I was meandering through the store buying things, when I saw this cute blonde boy sitting in a cart. He smiled up at me and I smiled back. So far, so good. He looked directly into my eyes, chucked his toy the ground and demanded to me, "Pick it up!" (Now, you truly need to imagine the accent here, which we'll just pretend is English just because you can probably imagine that. Some little wanker just threw his toy down and said, "Pick i' up!") Little brat. My smile instantly faded, and I rolled my eyes, which I think this kid should only get used to. So he said it AGAIN! At this point, I looked over to his mother who said, "Aren't they so cute at this age?" But she meant it. I recreated the eye rolling look that had worked so effectively on the smaller of the wankers and went on my way.

I did not purchase a little plant today for two reasons. I decided they are too needy. (What, you need water again??) Also, the brand name of the plants was Lil Cuties. Yeah. No explanation needed there. No ankle biters for me for quite some time. Thanks for the reminder, bratty little brat.