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Weapons of mad distraction

I’m filling up the truck at a local shop and am reminded of an encounter with the attendant at the register.


My grandson and I had gone in to get snacks and drink and of course the boy zeroes in on the bags of sweets…

“Chocolate. I want chocolate, pleeeeez”, sweetly he says as he points to the treasure assortment right at toddler arm level.

“No, not now. We’re here for other snacks. Chocolate is too messy on a hot day and you just got that clean shirt on. ”

“Pleeeeze” ☺ Again the cuteness.

The attendant, trying to be helpful: “We don’ sell chocolate. No chocolate here. No can get”

The boy and I look at the lunkhead with probably the same expressions on our faces…

The boy: “But. This. Chocolate.”

Attendant: “No. not chocolate”

And suddenly I can see how chocolate and WMD can become the same thing, in the right situation…

Gwumpas jumpin onna truck

Last grand-story for today, I promise


 

We were having a typical discussion yesterday while washing the truck in the driveway. I casually mentioned I was going to climb on top of the truck and would jump off, and was met with instant concern:

He: “NO GWUMPA no climbing onna truck. You fall down and and and bonk yer head.”

Me: “…and then momma calls the doctor…?”

He: “YAH and momma call the doctor and and the doctor, the doctor said..”

Me (singing triumphantly, having set up the joke): “…no more monkeys jump…”

He: “NO NO GWUMPA doctor said, ‘No more gwumpas jumping onna twuck'”