The kids are conspiring against me

I left the house a little grumpy today. I blame the signs in my favorite walking space, informing me that off leash dogs kill wildlife and knock kids off of bicycles (there is a campaign going on urging people to leash their dogs since a blue heron was killed recently). Since I have sometimes broken the law and let my dog off leash in that glorious space, I feel guilty and attacked.

But the kids of Boston seem determined to yank me out of my bad mood.

As I walked to work, I spotted a woman with a double stroller on the sidewalk ahead of me. A quick calculation made me realize that if she didn’t shift a little, I was gonna end up in the fence. Damn strollers, I groused silently. People with kids think they own the sidewalk. 

Then, like magic, she shifted to the side with a smile and one of the little angels in the stroller lifted his little hand and waved at me. I, feeling suitably jack-ass-like, waved back.

***
At the bus stop, a tired-looking mom was talking to her little toddler while her baby slept in yet another stroller.

Mom, to the toddler: You sure do have a lot of energy!
Toddler: Yep!
Mom: Can you give some to me?
Toddler: ***evil grin***

***

As we approached a major construction site on the bus, the mom with the toddler asked her little one if there were more excavators than yesterday. The little boy, mesmerized, didn’t answer, but all of us watched as the scoop dumped a bunch of concrete into a dump truck with a resounding clang.

Toddler, hushed, in awe: “Did you hear that?”
Mom: “Yes, I sure did.”
pause, as we all kept watching
Mom, idly: “You know, I always thought they looked like big, mechanical dinosaurs.”

The little boy was silent, still mesmerized. Then suddenly, from the front of the bus came a voice:

Bus driver: “I always thought the same thing. It’s so cool to hear someone say it.”

***

On the train, grandma and her grandson were having an adventure. Kneeling on her lap, the little one kept his eyes fixed outside the window, letting out a little gasp every time another train went by. A few times, he flung out a hand and pointed, whacking me in the head.

I didn’t mind. Thanks, kids of Boston.