The boys played at the McDonald's playland. A family spread their Happy Meals across the table next to mine. They keep pulling up chairs - there seem to be so many of them.
"Where is the ketchup?" the little boy asks.
"Mommy went to get some," his dad responds.
Mommy went to get some.
Why did that sentence make my throat tighten and my eyes sting?
These drive by emotions don't catch me off guard quite so often, but suddenly I was nearly a mess. Over someone else's mommy's ketchup.
I still can't make sense of it.
But I think it has something to do with the husband and wife working as a team.
Something to do with him holding down the fort and passing out napkins while she covered one more detail.
Something to do with him knowing where she was.
Something to do with the fact that young parents call each other Mommy and Daddy.
Something to do with a family on a lunch date, instead of a mom in survival mode.
Something to do with a family intact.
I don't know. But I cried over ketchup.