Day One Hundred and Twenty-Four
-A toddler chanted, “I won’t eat. I won’t eat. Bad seafood. Bad seafood.” Despite the many repetitions of this mantra, I was unable to discern whether the child refused to eat the bad seafood, or whether he refused to eat what he was given and demanded bad seafood in its stead.
-A young boy adamantly denied that he had staged a banana fight at home. His mother told me that he had unpeeled all of the bananas in the house, left them on the ground, and threw the peels at everyone in the house. I am not sure whose story I believe more, but I know which I hope is true.
-An incredibly-coordinated child, no more than eighteen months-old, blew me more kisses than I could catch or count, blessing me and my day more than I had thought possible from one so tiny.
-An elderly woman slowly shuffled towards my lane, one finger outstretched inquisitively. Her impressively wide smile never left her face, nor did her impressively wide eyes leave mine. After inching most of the way to my lane like this, she dropped it entirely, moving and acting as normally as a septuagenarian could. I, to this very moment, know not which persona to trust as genuine, and which was the well-constructed ruse.
-I watched as an infant breached multiple layers of zipper-reinforced security and extracted her grandmother’s credit cards from her wallet within her purse without arousing any suspicion nor attention. Recruitment for my heist squad continues to go swimmingly.
-The position of Register Friend has been filled today by a gazelle whom I have named Giselle, as this is both a beautiful name befitting such a beautiful creature as well as the first name that popped into my head.