Sunday, July 03, 2005
to market, to market, to see a fat pig
I first saw the father. He turned around and scolded his daughter for not keeping up. I followed his disapproving glare down to the blond little munchkin carrying a plastic bag heavy with produce, struggling to keep it from dragging on the cobblestone street, as well as two other large brown paper wrapped packages. I looked back up at the father. I was incensed. How could a father expect his little girl to carry so much when he wasn’t carrying a single thing?!
As I moved through the crowd I got closer to the wee little thing. She was as blond as blond could be. Behind her little spectacles were eyelashes as light as her hair. Poor sweet darling.
And then I heard something. She was singing. As her father trudged ahead of her, leaving her to carry all the market produce, she was singing.
la, la, I’m shopping, la, la, I’m at the market, la, la, la, I’m shopping with Daddy.