As we were walking down the stairs to wait for the metro today, a woman in traditional dress was walking up with a package of cookies. As we pass her, she hands one to each of the boys.
There was a stark difference in how each of us approached the situation: Josh reminded the boys to say “shukran,” (thank you) while my brain was screaming, “What are my children doing? They are eating something that a stranger handed to them in a metro station! What if she’s handing out poison cookies or has some crazy cookie-transmittable disease?!? Oh my gosh, it’s too late. They already have them in their mouths . . . ugh, I hope she washed her hands and that she’s not an insane predator like you hear about on Dateline NBC.”
And then we went on to ride the metro.
Josh probably has no idea that it bothered me. I cover the crazy well.
I bet if you look closely, you can probably still see crumbs around their mouths from the offending cookies. Poison watch 2011: No noticeable changes in either physical or mental capabilities 8 hours later. I’ll take that as a good sign.