Me: That was the best you’ve ever done on a reading lesson! You kicked that reading lesson’s butt! We don’t use that expression, Fluffy, but you totally did.
Fluffy: Can I have a treat? Can we go to Georgetown Cupcake?!
I hesitate because it is much more difficult to schlep all my offspring to Georgetown Cupcake (you may know it from TV as “DC Cupcake” which is not it’s actual name) than it was when I first started going the month it opened. I used to take my baby Fluff to their original glorified closet on Potomac St. so often that the owners and cashiers recognized us and one of Fluffy’s first 20 words was “cupcake”. She’d see the awning and chant, “uh-ay, uh-ay, uh-ay.”
Me: Okay, Fluffy. Let’s do it. Let’s say a prayer that we find a good parking spot.
We did find an okay parking spot. There’s no maneuvering the stroller around their shop with all the tourists taking pictures and hoping to get on camera these days, so I have to put the twins in carriers. I usually put one on front and one on my back, but I left the Ergo carrier in my other stroller, so I had to put Peppers in the carrier on my front and hold
2. My purse
3. Two umbrellas
4. A box of cupcakes
5. Fluffy’s hand to cross all the streets.
As we come to the door, a blonde chick with her boyfriend tries to cut in front of us in line. The employee manning the door doesn’t let her, fortunately. The boyfriend looks apologetic.
I have a captive audience as I hold a baby with one hand, a purse with the other and use my third and fourth hands to fish my credit card out of my wallet, sign the receipt and pick up my skim milk. Kids, don’t try this at home.
I’m waiting for a woman and her son to vacate one of the only three tables. The lady looks at me and says, “I have twins. I’m going to say something. I’m going to say something…” Go ahead. Say it. And when I’m your age, I will say something to other twin mommies, too. “When mine were that age, I stayed home.” That’s all you’ve got? Pffft!
Just as the older twin mother leaves, I turn to the counter to pick up my order. When I turn around, good old Blondie who tried to cut in front of us in the line has swooped in and sat down at the table. She can’t get her boyfriend to join her. He looks rather embarrassed at what she’s obviously done. She looks at everything but me. I guess she’s pretending she didn’t see me waiting for that table.
What would you have done?
Maybe I should have taken everybody back out to the not-half-bad parking spot and eaten the cupcakes in the car, but I didn’t. I walked right up to Blondie and said, “Excuse me?” She looked up with a startled, “Oh, I didn’t see you there” expression.
Oh you didn’t see me? The six foot three woman dripping in twins? The one everyone else in the place is looking at? The one with Captain Outrage strapped to her chest and Sir. Squirms A Lot brandishing a fistful of chocolate ganache frosting balanced on her hip? I know this comes as a complete shock, but I would actually like to sit at that table I’ve been waiting for.
“Can we sit here?” I ask gesturing to the other two chairs at the table. Blondie eyes the chairs and my gorgeous daughter smiling at her. She sputters, considering her options. Just how big of a witch can she be and still keep this boyfriend who is already mortified by her? “Sure,” she finally croaks out.
Yeah, that’s right. Let’s get cozy together at this table, babe. Not that you’ll notice we’re here since you clearly have a case of me-and-my-three-kids-blindness.
Man that cupcake was good.