Earlier this week, Sean and I were strolling into the grocery store from the parking lot when a pick up truck slowly passed us.
We stopped and stood back and allowed the truck to turn in front of us into a parking space and come to a complete stop before we continued towards the store. Driving the truck, with the window rolled down, was a rough looking, weather worn construction worker kind of guy. He was wearing a red bandana do rag, had tattoos up and down his arms and wore a small silver hoop earring.
“Look Mommy!” Sean loudly exclaimed. “A Pirate! Do you see the pirate!?”
I tugged on Sean’s arm purposefully to try to shush him without being too obvious.
Just then, the pirate gets out of his truck and Sean hollers to him, “Aaargh matee!”
The big burley guy looked at us long and hard through slitted reptile eyes as I groped for my “Beam Me Up Scottie” button. And then he broke into a big smile and giggled like a little girl.
I nervously giggled back in a “Kids say the darndest things” sort of way. Then I grabbed Sean’s hand and made a run for the store before he asked why the pirate only had one tooth.