I'm Good With Kids!

I was recently asked to baby-sit for my neighbor. (Not the gay one, of course - all his kids are grown up)
Now, this isn't the sort of thing I would normally be asked to do, nor the sort of thing I would normally accept, but I'd been drinking, and he'd been drinking, and it just seemed like a good idea at the time. (A little note here - I was drinking my wine coolers, but he was drinking something that smelled like insect repellent. Ick!)
Anyhow, I found myself with a seven-year-old kid and an afternoon full of errands. My first thought was to leave the tyke at my house with the remote control, some ice cream, and a phone for emergencies, but I had this weird little feeling, like a voice in my head saying, "No, you're good with kids, you can do this." I mean, that's what I was thinking.
So I took junior to the mall with me. It went all right at first - he was completely quiet and well behaved when I was buying my candles, and he didn't make a peep at the Nascar store (even though I know, for a fact, that all kids love nascar). The trouble started when I went to the Mac store (that's a computer place for you luddite troglodites). All I wanted was a new "A" button for my keyboard (the "A" is wearing off this one), but when I asked them to get me one, the "Mac Genius" started calling me a retard. Now, I wasn't happy to leave the store, "A" button-less, having been called a retard by a Genius, but if anyone can declare who's a retard, it has to be a genius. So I accepted that, for the time being. No, what bugged me was when junior started calling me a retard too, like it was suddenly okay for him to say. And he said it constantly.
I tried to explain that he didn't have the right to call me that, that only a genius had that power. But no, it was "Retard this," and "Retard that," and "You're a retard." So I told him that I knew he was no genius, because I'd seen him poop in his pants before, and geniuses don't do that. He didn't care.
This is when that "good with kids" instict kicked in, and I had a stroke of genius of my own. I said "Listen, junior, you have to behave, or people are going to spit on you." This got his attention.
"You're going to spit on me?" he asked (notice the lack of "retard" now)
"No," I said, "But everyone else will. They'll spit on you. They've wanted to spit on you since we got here, but they've had to wait for an excuse. They have one now: you're being bad."
Junior was looking really scared now, and I was feeling pretty proud.
He pointed to a guy on the upper level. Don't ask me why he picked that guy, he was just some guy. "He wants to spit on me?"
"Yes," I said. "Him, and him, and her, and him, and that guy. They will spit on you."
Now it looked like junior was about to start crying, or something.
"What about her?" He pointed to an old lady. I have to admit, it was a good call on his part, because she looked like a really nice old lady. But I just told him that she had already tried to spit on him when I was buying my candles. Then he really did start crying, and I acted like I was trying to protect him from flying spit. I would never really do that, but he seemed to appreciate it, and he stopped crying right away when I told him that people spit on cryers too.

He was quiet the rest of the day. He didn't even want to eat when I made sandwhiches. That is one good kid.
Also, my neighbor asked me if I ever wanted to babysit again, when he got back. I told him I didn't really want to, but I'd leave it up to junior. I expect to be watching the little rugrat pretty often now.

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