So here I was riding the bus home. There’s an African (as in born and raised in Africa, having immigrated to Canadia) woman at the front of the bus with her two kids, a young girl in a stroller and a young boy not in the stroller. Both are incredibly young, the older boy being kindergarten age at absolute maximum.
The two kids were yattering back and forth about I don’t know what, whatever the primitive minds of tiny children feel is important to their day to day activities. I paid them no heed, finding it more productive to stare out the window and mentally run over marksman PvP builds (YES I DO THIS SHUT UP).
Then the darndest thing happened! They got louder! Well, not so much louder as more intense and saying the same thing over and over again.
The little girl says: “Your are the daddy!”
The little boy says: “No I’m not!”
“Yes, your are the daddy!”
“No! No I’m not!”
“Yourrr arrre the daddy!”
“No, I’m not the daddy!”
“Yes, yourrrr arrrre the daddy!”
“NO! I’M! NOT! The daddy!”
This continued, each participant of this highly odd argument increasing in volume with every exchange. Other passengers on the boss were grinning, tittering, giving each other looks with smiles attached. Oh those darn kids!
Eventually the mother interrupts by asking “Why don’t you want to be the daddy?”
A good ten seconds go by. Finally, the boy turns to his mother, a mask of utter anguish and rage on his face, tears tracing paths down a face that shouldn’t even be capable of expressing sorrow yet.
“Because daddy leave and make mommy cry!” the boy finally spat back.
Dead silence was the only sound heard for the remainder of the bus trip.