Tuesday, March 1, 2016

Sometimes, There Are Simply No Words

One of those times was Sunday.

The Pony and I completed the weekly shopping at Walmart. We stashed the purchases in T-Hoe's rear. As I pushed the button to close the hatch, The Pony took the cart to the cart corral.

Oh, dear.

I know I said there are no words. But Val likes a challenge.

The Pony is usually one of those kids you don't notice. He wears slacks in black or khaki, solid polo shirts, a navy blue hoodie. He blends into the woodwork. Sidles along the wall. Nothing makes him stand out. You could walk right by him five or six times and not remember him. Unless you saw him Sunday returning the cart.

The temperature was 65 degrees, so The Pony opted for shorts. Not that he consciously chose them, but that he put on what I tossed on the back of the couch from the laundry room. It was a pair of royal blue athletic shorts with a white stripe, and a matching (close enough) royal blue knit shirt. The thin kind that dries fast. Completing his ensemble were his navy blue Adidas slides with the white stripe. No socks.

Let the record show that The Pony is loath to shave on the weekend. So he had a little chin stubble, and a scraggly patch under his right ear. He is also loath to trim his toenails, which jutted like raptor talons from the ends of his great toes. Further let the record show that The Pony refuses to pilot a cart in Walmart, no matter how many items I send him after with his own list. He makes four or five trips across the store, arms piled full, until he is finished. No matter how many times I ask him if he would like to take a cart, his answer is "NO!"

Apparently, pushing a cart is more desirable in the parking lot. The Pony grabbed our empty basket and wheeled it around to start his descent past five parking spaces, and across the parking aisle to the cart corral. At first I thought he was going to give it a push, then stand on the back, like I've seen other mothers' helpers do in the past. Uh huh. I thought he was just getting that little run at it, and was going to jump on and ride it down the hill. In fact, I was so certain that I worried a little that he might turn that thing over backwards and crack his skull on the pavement. My worries were unfounded.

OH, DEAR!

The Pony took off with both hands on the cart handle. His head was tilted back in joy, catching the warm rays of the sun. His Terrible-Cuts-needing curly tresses bounced in the breeze. Light reflected off his glasses while he trotted down the parking aisle, his Adidas flapping on the blacktop.

Oh, how he trotted! Like a cross between a Royal Lipizzaner Stallion in the throes of a dressage routine, and a goose-stepping soldier on parade. While still pushing the cart! Indeed! His hand position on the cart handle, and the tilt of his head, were very much like these ragamuffin street urchins playing pretend steeds in the first minute of this clip from the 1968 Best Picture, Oliver!

OH, DEAR!

There he went, in a controlled careen across the asphalt. Or...as it turned out...not so controlled a careen.

THE PONY SLAMMED THAT CART INTO THE HOLLOW METAL RAIL OF THE CART CORRAL!

The cart rebounded, almost upending The Pony. As it were, he was jolted to a stop, that cart shoving him back a good two feet.

The Law of Conservation of Momentum is a harsh taskmaster.

There was a 30-something woman strapping a baby into the back seat of her car, which was parked on the downhill side of the cart corral. She looked over her car roof at the approaching Pony. When he came to a sudden, unintended stop, the expression on her face was priceless. She looked up the hill at me. Like, "Is he yours?" Or, perhaps, "What is wrong with him?"

The Pony galloped back to T-Hoe and climbed into his regular seat behind me. "That kind of hurt. I think my ankle is swelling. It might leave a bruise."

Oh, how I wished technology was my friend! I could have had a viral video, but for my ineptitude. I laughed so hard I almost cried. Even now, I'm chuckling. As I did all day Monday, on the way to school, in the classroom, on the way home...every time the subject came up. The Pony gave me unrestricted permission to tell whomever I desire.

And I desire a lot.

22 comments:

  1. I'm almost seventy, and I still do that...probably not as fast though.

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    1. I assume you get the same looks from other shoppers.

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  2. You have painted a very colorful picture of the event. What color is his ankle?

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    1. It is still Pony-colored, but with a scrape and a scratch.

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  3. Hey (or hay, since it's The Pony we're talkin' 'bout)--he COULD have hit a car with his cart.

    Be thankful for small blessings...

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    1. Dang! His insurance is already high enough! Next time I'll be sure to put The Pony before the cart.

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  4. I'm glad The Pony wasn't hurt. It would really feel bad to get injured over something like this.

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    1. Yeah. It would be kind of like the times he broke both elbows, falling at separate times in different halls of two Backroads school buildings...

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  5. Replies
    1. I was guffawing on the outside, and hee-hawing on the inside. But still, my heart hurt for The Pony. He's a gentle soul. And not at all athletic.

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    2. This comment has been removed by the author.

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    3. I hate it when Blogger makes me repeat myself.

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  6. That would have made such a great video! I still do that jumping on the back thing from time to time until I remember that I'm supposed to be a proper grown up ...

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    1. I know, right? But I'm a technology simpleton.

      You and Joe H should have a race.

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  7. For a Pony who likes to blend into the background this was amazing. He's one of a kind, a good assistant and an extremely good sport.

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    1. Yes. He is all of those things. And this time his forelock was at the forefront. A real show Pony. Yet no evidence exists, other than his soon-to-be scars.

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  8. A lovely picture is forming in my mind of Pony, head up in the sun, galloping along . . . and then . . .

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    1. He would have been great in a cartoon, with his ACME shopping cart.

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  9. Acme shopping cart ........ bless his heart!

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    1. The Pony recognizes his foibles and is able to laugh at them. Genius...not so much.

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  10. He's doing it wrong. You should always ride the trolley back into the trolley corral. At full speed.

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    1. NO! This is the kid who broke both elbows (in different years) by falling while walking down the hall at school.

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