In the cashier’s line to check out, my wife was purchasing Pampers for a diaper cake she was making for my sister. Also beginning to show her own pregnancy, my wife was asked by the cashier how old was her baby.
Beep, beep, went the barcode scanner.
Then my wife explained how the items were for a diaper cake. She then asked the cashier, who looked like she was about to burst,when she was due to deliver.
The cashier replied that her due date had already come and gone and that, actually, her contractions were now four minutes apart.
In other words, this poor soul was standing there, passing items over the barcode scanner while she was in labor.
Beep, beep.
It was no problem, she said, “because I get off in half an hour.”
“Plus, I don’t have to be back to work until tomorrow at six.”
Ever graceful, my wife smiled and asked the cashier what number this child would be for her.
“My ninth,” the cashier said
Beep, beep, went the barcode scanner as the cashier handed my wife her receipt.
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