Earplugs and Crabby Old Women

I must be getting old and crabby.
a little boy comes in to the doctor’s
office with his father, running up
and down between the chairs,
waving his truck up and down,
throwing his toy ball up in the air,
enjoying life to the fullest.
his father sits down, pulls out his
Blackberry and starts reading
emails and texting his friends, at one
point leaving the waiting room
to make a private call, no doubt to
his mistress who does not have children.
I always carry a pair of earplugs;
I ignore the child who seems to
want me to play ball with him
since his father isn’t in the room.
I insert the earplugs and resume
reading.