the secret grown ups

Now that I'm back to work (with the mysterious phone and everything) I have to figure out how to get there every morning. My office is within walking distance, but if I walk farther than five blocks, my left leg will fall off and I'll fall over sideways. And I'll be damned if I'm going to keep feeding my money to the cab company, which is what I did for most of 2007.

I discovered a bus stop half a block from my front door that connects me to another stop only a block from my office. This I something I can get behind. I don't care if the number 12 takes me downtown and the number 10 takes me back home, even if that's the stupidest thing I've ever heard of. Not only do I have to hear about it, I have to live the stupidity every day. The 12 and the 10 follow identical paths; why do they have different numbers? Why? I bet that not even the transit company knows. They probably drew up the route plans, discovered their stupidity and left it there, out of sheer mortal embarrassment.

Anyway.

On Thursday I got to listen to a conversation between a teenage boy and girl. Bear in mind that the entire conversation was held in earnest.

Girl: I really like the new guy.
Boy: Yeah?
Girl: Most guys don't want to date me when they find out I've got a kid. They don't want to deal with it.
Boy: They probably don't expect you to have a kid.
Girl: This guy is really cool about my kid.
Boy: Do your parents worry about you dating?
Girl: No, they let me do what I want. They treat me like a grown-up.
Boy: But you're not.
Girl: I am. Secretly I am. I'm a mom.
Girl: And I turn sixteen next month, so I can have my license.