I remember most the pajama's you were wearing. They were white with primary colored airplanes and clouds on them, there was red banding at your ankles and wrists. Dark tousled hair acted as a hat for your glaring frowny face. You were not about to be mollified by our smiles and silent Hello-es! Your mom was busy loading the belt with basket items, so your normal support system and shelter was distracted, you were on your own with two people staring at you. Your hands buried themselves in your armpits, arms crossed, there was no way we were welcome.
We stood with random items in our hands. Husband and Wife, kiddo at home with a sitter or at grandma's for the night, I can't remember that detail. But we were young parents, and as is the nature of young parents we thought we could baby whisper any and all kids. But the late night and grocery store atmosphere were all ready two strikes against us. Third strike came when my man dared to say How's it going kiddo?
Snap! CRACK! You slapped one hand onto the bar the other was pointed at us with force and you hollered... HEY, BUCKO!!! Like we were in trouble for daring to talk to you, so we pulled ourselves back in from our flinches, we reined in our smiles, and threw up our hands in mock surrender. You had won.
Now ten years later, you Bucko kid are probably starting to think about girls, maybe you are gearing up for your last year of middle school. You have no idea how your two words and big attitude have affected our life. Hey, bucko! is a family term, used when someone is pulling attitude and needs to be brought back to earth and all because you were grumpy in a grocery store late at night.
We thank you, Bucko Kid.
Tuesday, July 19, 2011