Desperately needing an Orange Berry Blitz Smoothie (yes, desperately) I hopped into my car, put the top down, and head for Jamba Juice. This is an evil place to which the Boy introduced me a month or so ago; the smoothie of choice for me tastes a lot like a berry daiquiri, but without the booze.

Eh, you can’t have everything, especially so early in the day.

This particular Jamba Juice is very popular; I’ve never been I there when there hasn’t been a line. It generally moves quickly and I really wanted one, so I placed my order and then stood in the We-Already-Paid-And-Are-Waiting line, right next to a couple and their little boy.

Little Boy: I wanna go home.
Mom: In a little bit. Let Mommy and Daddy get this, and then we’ll take you next door for ice cream.
Little Boy: I don’t feel good.
Mom: Sweetie, you say that every time we go somewhere.
Little Boy: My tummy hurts. I wanna go home.
Dad (feels kid’s forehead): He’s not warm.
Mom (not sounding snotty or anything, just matter of fact): He’s tired. He does this every time I take him somewhere. (to the kid): It’ll be just a couple of minutes. Then we’ll get your ice cream.
Little Kid: I don’t want ice cream.
Mom and Dad look at each other.
Little Kid (holding tummy): Mommy…

And thusly did I discover that the kid had obviously had Cheerios for breakfast, and possibly orange juice too.

Little Kid (as people are scrambling for a bucket and mop): I told you I didn’t feel good.

Not that I let that stop me from enjoying my smoothie or anything…

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