Lyndi
Ittakestwentyminutesof explaining to the manager that my child peeing on the slide was not malicious.
I guess for the spider it was pretty dreadful, but no one was physically hurt. Plus, I’ve heard pee is sterile. But that might be one of those things you tell yourself because you want to believe that the public pool is actually super sanitary.
“He’s a four-year-old. Their only malicious intent is to delay bedtime as long as they can by whining about being hungry and needing a drink of water,” I all but snarl at the grumpy manager across the desk. The oversized man looks like he never leaves this office, judging by the number of burger wrappers littering what little surface area is available. It’s gross and unsettling.
“He still shouldn’t have peed on the slide, ma’am,” he says, then takes a few deep breaths as if the sentence exhausted him.
I’m so done with this conversation. “Um yeah, thank you for stating the obvious, but I’m leaving.”
“Wait. We need to file an accident report.”
I throw my head back and my laugh echoes off the cold white walls. “Are you for real? Kids pee on things. They just do.”
“No kid has ever peed on that slide before.”
I roll my eyes. “Not that you know of. Look, can we just let this go? He’s achild.” Or has he been in this office so long he forgot little humans still exist? For being the manager of a family establishment, he’s awfully crabby about families being here.
He shakes his head. “You’ll have to pay for the damages.”
My jaw drops and I shoot to my feet. “Nothing but your ego was damaged. I’m sorry, but I don’t have enough money to fix that. The slide has been sanitized. Get over it.”
“I’m still going to have to—” He’s still talking?
“You know what, maybe I’ll call the health department on you for having poisonous…” I don’t know this for sure “…spiders infesting an eating establishment. You should be thanking my son for getting rid of it before it bit a child and you were hit with a lawsuit.”
His mouth gapes. I’ve stunned him into silence.
Took long enough.
“Have a lovely day, sir.”
I storm out of the office and straight to the play center. I need to get out of here before I strangle that man. Not that I could fit my hands around his monstrous neck.
I grab Crew—who is still in the play center with Ward—by the hand and haul him out the door.
“Whoa, did something happen in there?” Ward asks, sprinting to catch up with me.
“Yes. The manager is an idiot.”
“Mommy, that’s a naughty word,” Crew chides. Sure, he can recall the rules perfectly when they don’t apply to him.
“I’m sorry,” I say half-heartedly, then look down at him. “Honey, no more peeing outside.”
Crew understands my serious expression and hangs his head. “Okay, Mommy.”
I keep walking, but Crew gets distracted by everything in sight. The rocks on the sidewalk, the gum on the wall.
I can’t get him home fast enough. Did I commit a crime by refusing to pay for said damages? I cleaned the slide, which was no easy feat considering the tiny tube of death is built for children under four feet tall. I’m also certain it was the first time that thing had been cleaned, considering the difference in color when I was done. I think that was fair enough.
I finally allow myself to breathe when we enter my apartment complex without an excessively sweaty manager following us. I’ve never been so happy to come home to my tiny apartment.
“I’m sorry about that,” I say to Ward as I unlock the door. Crew runs inside.
“It was an interesting turn of events for sure.” He nods, a smile attempting to lift his lips. Two days ago, I would have killed to see that smile. I’m still tempted to sneak out my phone and capture its beauty, but I’ve already embarrassed myself enough for one night.
I was enjoying the evening before the ‘incident’ and I’m not ready to call it quits, even though I know I should. If I’m being honest with myself, it was the best possible not-a-date I’ve been on in a long time.
