Hello situation normies,
Welcome to another edition of Situation Normal! Today’s story is short and sweet. If that’s the kind of humor that puts a smile on your face, please upgrade to a paid subscription. You’ll get a shout out in the Wednesday edition, access to exclusive Situation Normal stories, and the satisfaction of knowing that your subscription underwrites joy for the situation normie community.
The line to order at the coffeehouse is short, but the line for milk and sugar is long. The culprits are two boys. They look like they’re around six or seven.
The boys have large beverages that require large amounts of sugar. Empty sugar packets pile up like cars in a traffic jam as the boys pour round after round of sugar into their drinks.
“Hurry up,” their dad urges. “People are waiting.”
I am one of those waiting people, but from my vantage point at the back of the line, I can see that these things can’t be rushed.
One boy struggles to pronounce “agave,” but he insist he’s “gotta have it.” His brother is stuck in an endless beverage prep loop—stir, sip, add more sugar, repeat.
“Sorry.”
Their dad’s apology is a general apology to everyone in line. With the exception of me, everyone else in line is either a kid, or the father of a kid. From the looks of things, the half-dozen kids ahead of me in line each have their own plans for the milk and sugar station. There’s agave to pour, and simple syrup, and the artificial sweeteners offer a rainbow of possibilities. Plus, the wooden stirring sticks make great swords! And great swords are all you need for great sword play, even though it’s all fun and games until someone loses an eye.
“It’s cool,” one yawning dad says. “We’re all in the same boat today.”
Another dad passes the time by asking his kids what they should make mom for breakfast.
“Spaghetti,” his daughter says.
“Chicken fingers,” his son adds.
“That’s what you guys want for breakfast,” the dad says. “But think about mom. What does she want to eat for breakfast?”
“Tuna fish,” the girl says.
“With Diet Coke,” her brother adds.
“I’m thinking eggs and waffles,” their dad says.
“Tuna spaghetti!” the boy replies.
The thought of tuna spaghetti makes my stomach turn, but a quick Google search on my phone tells me that tuna spaghetti is a thing, which just goes to show you that the internet is full of deeply disturbed people.
“At least wait until I’ve had my coffee,” another dad pleads.
His daughter is about to have a meltdown. From the looks of things, her meltdown won’t wait for coffee, or tuna spaghetti, or an agave overload, or a sword fight with the wooden stirring sticks. The girl is three or four, cute as a button, and on the verge of going Defcon 1 right here in this coffeehouse.
“Guys, hurry up,” the dad at the front of the line says. “You’ve each got enough sugar to stay in orbit all day.”
“It’s a guava,” his son says.
“Agave,” his dad corrects. “Not a guava.”
A guava sounds good right about now, but a guava always sounds good to me, especially if said guava is blended into a smoothie with almond milk and agave.
“We’re done here,” says the dad at the front of the line.
With his free hand, he waves his boys away, then uses his body to block their attempted return to the milk and sugar station. The boys protest. One threatens violence with his wooden sword. The other boy drops his wooden sword on the floor, picks it up, drops it again, picks it up again, and sticks it in his mouth. That’s “gross,” according to his dad. But according to the boy’s brother, the stick in mouth move broke the rules of their imaginary universe because the stick was a lightsaber, and you can’t hold a lightsaber in your mouth because “it burns your lips!”
But the fracas up front is a sideshow. The meltdown at the back of the line is the main event. The little girl screams so loud that I glance at the windows to see if they might shatter. The windows hold, but her dad falters. He looks tired and frustrated, but above all, the man looks lost, like Odysseus without Penelope. He doesn’t know what to do about his screaming Siren daughter.
I don’t know what to do either. I don’t know how to stop the little girl’s meltdown. I don’t know what to do about the two boys who laid waste to milk and sugar station. And I really don’t know what to do about the brother-sister team that’s plotting to disrupt the culinary arts.
Here’s what I do know: this childless man is drinking his coffee black this Mother’s Day. Also, Happy Mother’s Day to all the moms out there!
Stick around and chat!
You know the drill. I have questions, you have answers.
Do you like agave, or would you rather have a guava? Explain.
Tuna spaghetti is a bad idea, right?
If you celebrate Mother’s Day, how do you observe? Details encouraged.
Is it weird that a culture that claims to worship motherhood balks at ideas like parental leave, affordable child care, and reproductive rights, but insists on giving moms flowers and cards once a year?
There’s a Mother’s Day and a Father’s Day, but no Cousins’ Day. What’s the deal with that?
Read another Situation Normal story here👇
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I LOVE this. Poor dads. Valentine's Day and Mother's Day is brutal. I over hear them at stores. "Kids, what should we buy mom?" A kid yells, "Scissors!" And the trio considers the gift idea as other dads sweat in front of the greeting cards.
Speaking as a mom, the best gift is all of you out of the house.
2) I’m from the midwest and grew up eating Tuna Casserole. It’s egg noodles with cream of mushroom soup, peas or broccoli, and tuna, BAKED with crispy bread crumbs on top. It sounds disgusting, and it probably is, but also it’s great comfort food during a Minnesota snow storm. (This is not an endorsement.)