When out in public, we often witness an ancient tradition prevalent in society whereby normal human beings avoid any form of communication with other human beings, in order to, at all costs, evade that inevitable awkward moment of ‘small talk’. We will dip our head, feign phone calls, develop bouts of temporary deafness – you name it, some of us have done it. In fact, I’m pretty sure I’ve done them all.
It was Ash and I’s anniversary this weekend, and so we went out for a meal – childless – in order to spend a bit of quality time, and celebrate the last four years of marriage-hood.
However it seems as though no matter how childless you may seem in public, once you’ve had children their presence inevitably follows you wherever you go. In the form of ‘Special Agent Oso’. And ‘Mickey Mouse’. And annoying children’s show theme tunes.
Our waitress was incredibly forthcoming about her deep hatred of all things ‘Oso’, his ‘three special steps’ and his overall crapness at being able to do anything ‘Special Agent’ even in the slightest. We in turn shared our general detestation of any shows of a similar vein, and in turn, felt a connection with our waitress that we hadn’t felt when we first arrived at the restaurant.
Maybe this talking in public lark isn’t so bad after all?