The woman working behind the counter was chatty, or maybe she was just bored. Whatever the case she couldn't stop talking as she filled my order. I nodded on occasion and said "Uh Huh" a couple of times as she spoke, as it seemed like the polite thing to do - and hopefully speed up the processing of my order.
She paused for a moment after one of the uh-huh's and then asked me a question. She asked if I had any kids.
I told her I did not and that started an entirely new chat attack.
She related to me that she had two children herself, and that they were quite the handful. One, her youngest, was a little girl who was allergic to a litany of things, from peanuts to pollen, and for some reason the little girl loved peanut butter sandwiches, which might have been a problem except she had been able to find a peanut butter substitute that tasted exactly like peanut butter, which apparently appeased the little darlin'.
Then she told me about her son who possessed a head of jet black thick and curly hair which she just loved. However, her son liked his hair cut short, which frustrated her as she was 1/32 Cherokee and she wanted him to grow his hair out so that she could give him a braided pony tail in order to showcase her 1/32 Cherokee heritage (which I did not mention would mean he was, at best, 1/64 Cherokee).
Her son, btw, was in kindergarten.
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