|Photo credit: Robert Couse-Baker|
Also, I was wrongly accused of shoplifting at the drug store that time, but didn't even think of that injustice at first.
So one summer, my parents took us on vacation to Colonial Williamsburg because all the togetherness involved in a road trip and hotel stay always seem like a good idea before you actually do it. Oh, and it was educational and stuff. We always enjoyed visiting Old Bethpage, so why not visit someplace else old timey?
One of the exhibits was a working bakery, and I remember big baskets of cookies. All the tourists lined up along the rope that lined the work area as we watched what was going on, and probably ended up at a spot where we could buy the cookies. My brother was pointing out some cookies to me, but not the ones in the basket closest to us - the ones farther away. Now, grown-ups who are used to the subtleties of talking with their hands would indicate the far basket by pointing higher up, or over to the left. But my bro wasn't even in high school yet. So he leaned over the rope as far as he could so that his finger could be pointing as close to the basket he meant.
One of the bakers saw him, and shook his finger at him like, "don't even think about it, buddy."
Which he wasn't. So whatever. The parents were on line ahead of this and completely missed the whole thing.
Later, we were on line outside another historical building and two women got on line behind us. And I heard, "Those are the two children who were stealing cookies."
My mother didn't hear this. I know she didn't because she turned to me and smiled for some random reason. I'm sure the ladies behind us saw and decided that my mom had raised us to steal historically baked cookies. For thrills. Obviously.
Meanwhile, all I could think was, "Shut the fuck up, lady. He wasn't stealing cookies and how exactly did I become an accomplice?"
I didn't say anything to the women, or to my parents for one simple reason. My mother would've had a screaming fit. She went on to teach junior high. She is not someone you fuck with. She also used to bake a lot, so we really had all the cookies we needed at home.
But she didn't subject us to the torture of Catholic school to have us accused of cookie theft. And her father was a cop, so she'd probably cut a bitch for saying her kids were cookie crooks.
You save the Wrath of Mom for situations that really call for it, is what I'm saying. And some nasty bitches who we were never going to see again just didn't rate.
And now I really want to bake some cookies.
Have you ever been wrongly accused of something?