Inside, I noticed a rowdy band of little boys ages three to five who were running and playing with such gusto, they’d worked up a sweat.
I found these sandals in a matter of seconds, then was momentarily sidetracked by a pair of cute cargo pants.
I ducked into one of those freestanding dressing rooms with nothing but a mirror and a curtain and got straight to work. Midway into the pants, I heard muffled giggles coming from outside my tiny space. A small sneaker appeared under the curtain.
“Someone’s in here,” I called.
And that’s when it happened. One of the little boys flung open the curtain, revealing a half-dressed yours truly.
“Guys!” I said, exasperated. “That is not cool.”
I threw on my regular clothes and marched out of the dressing room. For the first time I spied their harried mother, who had approximately 12 other children and had clearly missed the whole thing.
I didn’t want to stir up trouble, but I couldn’t resist giving the ringleader a what-do-you-have-to-say-for-yourself kind of look. (I figure it’s good practice for when I’m a mom.)
The kid’s eyes got very wide. I’m sure he thought I was about to bust them. He made a quick decision and without a word, pointed to his brother.
That’s when I gave up and burst out laughing.
Well played, little man. Well played.