I must tell you a story. It's a story about a grown woman, a coffee shop, and a dragon onesie.
This week has been a wee bit rough. Ok, it's been horrible. A horrible week made slightly better by onesies and Starbucks and good hugs. But this morning at 5:40, when I arrived at the coffee shop to collect my delicious London Fog tea latte, I had forgotten that I was a grown woman wearing an extremely silly onesie. I remembered as I opened the car door and my dragon tail plopped out.
And there I was, sitting in the parking lot with one dragon leg out of my car, staring at my fuzzy slippers, then back up at the other grownups getting their morning goodies. They were not wearing dragon onesies. Not a one of them.
I sat there for a minute, deciding whether I was going to play it cool and act like I wasn't dressed like a toddler or to acknowledge the dragon in the room. Then I pulled up my hood, sighed a deep sigh of resignation, and flopflopped inside.
There were 4 customers and 3 baristas inside. They all looked up. Two of the customers stared at me with a sort of "You have got to be kidding me, what the heck is wrong with you?" expression. (Perhaps that is just their normal face at 5:40, which I can't hold against them.) The other two just avoided making eye contact, which I appreciated deeply.
I grabbed my tea and flopflopped my slippers back into the dark morning. One of the baristas called out, "I like your dragon! Have a good day!" as the door closed behind me, just missing my tail.
After work this afternoon, I have a meeting with my 8-yr-old son's school principal. I wonder what conclusions she might make about our home life, were I to arrive in a dragon onesie?
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