The very millisecond that my hand touched his bottom was the exact moment it became a very uncomfortable situation.
The young man was a super fit, 16 year old, high school track star- and a teammate of the teenager. I was an over 40 mother with an eager, outstretched arm, and a hand that was fully cupping a 16 year old boy’s rear end.
I knew it was wrong.
But I did it anyway.
He was going to squish my sauce.
I really couldn’t stand for that.
After spending Saturday morning at the boy’s cold and rainy soccer game, I was to spend the afternoon at the teenager’s cold and rainy track meet. I arrived at the track meet, still chilled, drive-thru burrito in hand. I sat down in the stands on a cold metal bench, directly behind the track coaches. Wishing I had remembered to bring a blanket, I took my burrito out of the bag. In the bottom of the bag were 4 tiny plastic cups of hot sauce. As I searched the crowd for the teenager, I removed the lids and laid out my 4 cups of hot sauce on the bench beside me. I was unwrapping my burrito when I spotted the teenager, who had just landed flat on her bottom in the sandy long jump pit.
I grabbed the first cup of hot sauce and poured a good third on the top of my burrito. I liked the hot sauce, and I knew that today, that hot sauce was going to help keep me warm.
The burrito was fantastic. The hot sauce was warming me up. As I watched the teenager get ready for her hurdle race, I poured some more sauce on my burrito. I was glad I had gotten 4 tiny cups worth. Today, especially, I would need it all.
The super fit, 16 year old track star, a teammate of the teenager, walked down my aisle toward where I was sitting. He wanted to talk to the track coaches sitting in the row in front of me. He stopped just to my right and leaned forward to get the coaches attention. They began speaking to each other. The super fit, 16 year old track star sensed that his conversation was going to be a long one. He decided to sit down next to me. He decided to sit down directly on my remaining 3 1/3 tiny plastic cups of hot sauce.
I watched as time then slowed down. I knew I had entered an alternate slow motion reality. I saw the teenage boy begin to sit. I turned my head to the right to see his bottom approaching my precious, my sauce. I turned my head to the left to see that I still had a fair amount of burrito left. I turned to the right again, toward the almost seated track star. I felt myself panic. I felt myself acknowledge an inappropriate attachment to my hot sauce. I felt a brief moment of confusion and shame, knowing full well what I was about to do.
I saw the track star’s bottom approach my hot sauce. I saw my arm shoot out. I saw my hand, for some reason open and palm up, attempt to protect my hot sauce.
And the very millisecond that my open and palm up hand touched his bottom was the exact moment it became a very uncomfortable situation.
I yelled out an unintelligible, “Ahhhhhhrrrrkkkk….ahh mah …ht sce!!!”
He jerked up a tiny bit and then and hovered the most uncomfortably smallest amount above my hand.
He turned his head to the left and looked at my hand. And then he looked at me. He said calmly, “OH. WOW.”
I yelled out a semi-intelligible, certainly embarrassing mini shriek, “Ahhrkk….it’s my HOT SAUCE! I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to get it on your…um….shorts. I’m sure that would have been uncomfortable.”
The super fit, suddenly supremely suave, 16 year old, high school track star turned to me and said, “Ahhhh….whatever….all my events are done…..it’s no problem. Who knows? It probably wouldn’t have bothered me…..at all……..I mean………………thanks.”
I did finish that burrito. And I used every last one of those rescued hot sauce cups. The teenager was pleased with her track meet. Until I told her I had grabbed the bottom of her teammate.
The supremely embarrassed teenager says only her dad is allowed to come to the next track meet. He’s sitting all alone. And he’s eating before he gets there.
Check This Out!
I’ve put it off for months. My mother-in-law gave it to me for Christmas. But finally, I’ve read, The Shack by William P. Young. Now, keep in mind, I’m not a joiner. I don’t like jumping on the bandwagon. I’ve avoided reading this book for many, many months.
However, YOU, yes YOU, should read this book. If only, because, the husband hasn’t yet and I need someone to talk to about it. So, if you’ve read it. Tell me what you thought of it. I’d really like to know. If you haven’t read it…hurry up and do so.