The Bad Mom

Farmers Market
Now that I have a baby, I’ve been forced to become a morning person. On the plus side I get to shop or shove my way through the farmers market Saturday morning with all the other early risers. I love that smell of kettle corn and beautiful flower arrangements. The rainbow of fruits and vegetables look good enough to eat. I can only afford the free samples right now and helped myself to what I thought was a cookie. The woman behind the table said, “ma’am, those are doggie treats.”
“Will they kill me?” I asked
“Well, no,” she hesitated.
“Then it’s fine.” I said as I took another.
Free entertainment is provided by random musical performers and on this day it was the “one man band” guy with various instruments strapped to himself like a suicide bomber ready to ignite. I too was strapped with my kid dangling from my stomach, thinking the only thing I use to strap on was a dildo, now look at me. Toddlers gathered around the man with their own tambourines and horns to add to the clatter they called music.
“Are there any requests?” the one man band guy asks the shorties.
“Shut up!” the one who could talk yelled.
“I have a request to shut up,” he giggles into the mic, “any other request?”
“Purple People Eater!” Another little one shouts as we got rockin.
Out of nowhere an elderly man who was either drunk or crazy joined the toddler mosh pit dancing and singing. He got his hips going and butt bumped an elderly bystander who lost her balance and stage dove onto the pit of toddlers and like London Bridges “they all fall down.” Parents went in to claim their screaming kid from the dog pile of pampers as the old guy was nowhere to be found.

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