The other day I was in line for a mocha at the hospital. Intent on my 800 calories of wake-me-the-hell-up, I didn’t bat an eye when I heard a common mom/toddler argument.
“Don’t want donut.”
“You asked for the donut, I bought you the donut, and you’re going to eat the donut.”
“Don’t want it.”
“But why not? It’s your favorite. It’s got the chocolate on top. You love the chocolate!”
“No. Don’t want!”
I turned around to smile in sympathy and was jolted into a new reality.
This baby had had a devastating injury or illness. More than half her face was covered in gauze and netting, with a huge pad on her eye and some serious-looking drainage tubes. Lives had been obviously disrupted, and the world was a different place for this family.
And they were arguing about a donut. I did smile, because it was ridiculously funny, and got a smirk and an eyeroll in return.
A few days ago, I was walking on the main floor and several people in front of me was a guy with a particularly jaunty step. His shoulders were swinging and his head was high as he nearly boogied down the hall. And I was thinking, now THAT’s the kind of perky I need. (I was probably heading for another coffee. I usually am.)
And then the crowd cleared and I saw that he had two artificial legs. His boogie was mechanically based and for him, totally normal.
Kinda makes me feel like a douche for complaining about anything. At all.