A Parental-Parable...

I was standing behind someone in line. They spoke loudly into their cellphone, and I couldn't avoid overhearing what was being said. Essentially it sounded like a parable of elementary-aged twins with an impending birthday and a set of circumstantial concerns related to this approaching event.

One of the twins was interested in models. From the discussion the supposed parental figure was divulging into the open air and cellphone network I deduced that the progeny was predominantly enthused by the kind of models that require diagrams, specialty glues, and assembly rather than wardrobes, professional lighting, and lavish levels of narcissistic supply. It sounded as if this doppelganger had been in good standing with his teachers and parents, and that there was only the lingering question as to what particular modeling-kit would be purchased and bestowed upon him for his annual commemorative celebration day.

The other duple had demanded a kitten as a token of admiration for his demonstrated prowess in surviving yet another year of elementary existence and educational tribulations. This duple had been recently reprimanded for refusals to share with his constituents at the educational institute where he was still presently deployed. I heard the voice in front of me imply that given this circumstance and the fact that one of the parental-entities possessed feline-allergies perhaps some other token should be considered for this impending occasion.

I found myself almost annoyed by the dissemination of these audible insights as I waited in line, but then I noticed something. My eyes had instinctively been scanning over all the last-chance items that had been arranged like beggars under the command of a military drill-instructor with OCD, and one of these pleading packages drew my attention. Perhaps the advertisers for this particular product had succeeded, or maybe my mind was showing early signs of some cognitive-collapse, but my hands reached over as if possessed by some imbued spirit's ataxia, and requisitioned two of these individually wrapped products.

Just then the voice had ended its cellphone transmission. I requested the attention of the beguiled parental-person before mentioning that I had inadvertently overheard their preceding conversation. Then I passively posited that I might have had a solution to this parental-parable. With a look of favorable inquisitiveness I was asked pleasantly to divulge my advice.

I handed the parental patron two KitKats®. The first one I explained, was for the twins. This would serve as a model for sharing thus allowing the model-enthusiast a gift fitting his interests, and providing the stingy duple with educational reinforcement while still granting him the gift of a Kat in accordance with his wishes.

The parental person appeared to have become perplexed and perturbed by my humble suggestion. Then holding the second KitKat® in front of us the beguiled guardian asked me why I'd handed-over this duple-delicacy. I calmly pointed to the advertised slogan printed upon the front face of the wrapper and mentioned that I thought given what I'd heard perhaps it wouldn't hurt for a parent to give themselves a break too. (Even if such a break required paying full retail-price).

Before the perplexed parent could thank or condemn me another register opened-up, and I cordially excused them to take advantage of the reduced wait. I didn't see if the parent ended-up purchasing the treats or putting them back on the shelf. Perhaps I'll never know if I was of any help in this parental-parable. As much as I'd like to have thought that my recommendations had been useful, by the time I was actually ready to check-out I'd added a Snickers® to my cart.

Note: I do not have any children of my own. You are all welcome.