During my morning ritualistic trip to Starbucks where I get a latte and prepare myself for a day of commiting evil in the name of capitalism, I encountered a small boy child. He had on overalls and smelled like baby shampoo. He placed his grubby little hand on my thigh and then grabbed on to my pants. When I looked down at him, he realized I was not his mamma. He started to look upset so I knelt down to speak to him and mesmerize him with my eyes. (I can mesmerize small children and dumb animals with my freakishly large eyes.) Together we located his mama who was putting a half gallon of sugar in her coffee around the corner. I did not say anything bitchy to her, I did not call child protective services, I did not scream about the dirty palm print on my new pants. See I like children.

You are nice...I may have patted the kid on the head, but thats all. And the mother definitely would have been presented with a dry-cleaning bill.

Hmm...I wonder if I'd be classified as a small child or a dumb animal?

Jeez kiddo, don't over streach yourself

I'll streach all I want, thank you very much!