Setting the scene:
Starbuck's, Upper Eastside of New York, Sunday morning. I'm standing in line waiting for my grande soy cappuccino (with an extra shot of caffeine-goodness) when all hell breaks loose to my right in the small space between the "retail" wall with mugs and syrups and the counter where you pick up your drinks. A small green tic tac glistens on the floor. A small hand snatches it and eats it.
The source of the noise? A small New Yorker, perhaps 3 or 4 in age, dressed from head to toe in pink, including pink rain boots. Her opponent? A beleaguered mother pushing a baby stroller and juggling multiple bags.
Mom with Bags: "I am serious. Spit that OUT!"
Pink Boots: "I am serious too, mommy. No."
Mom with Bags: "You cannot, CAN-NOT pick up things off the floor and put them in your mouth. It's dangerous. It's disgusting. I am talking very serious here and you have to listen to me. Spit it out."
Pink Boots, now with hands on hips, extending her tongue: "All gone. I am talking serious too, mommy. You didn't make breakfast. You never make breakfast. I get my own food."
And the barista calls out an iced skim latte for mom.
