The Lunch Lady

Last week I observed a pretty bizarre pair in my office's cafe. They appeared to be mother and son, though eating in an office park indicates that they work somewhere nearby, presumably together. The bizarre part was her excessive control over everything -- guiding him through what and how much he should take from the buffet, how many napkins to take, how much salt to use, how much ice to put in his soda. They left the cafe at the same time I did, at which point I heard her instruct, "Now we'll go wash our hands."

It seems that in his 20+ years with her (presumed) son, she didn't quite get the basic dining and post-dining behaviors down, and so feels the need to enforce them now, in a step-by-step instructional manner. The thought of what working in the office with her must be like gave me a few cold shudders. Today I met these two again. This time I passed them leaving as I went in. Not leaving the cafe however -- leaving the bathroom. With clean hands. As they regrouped in the lobby she said, "Now, doesn't that feel so much better?" as she shook her hands dry and he did the same. He silently nodded and I got a little more creeped out.

On a completely different note, here's a one-two punch of potty and old person humor Toothpaste for Dinner. Now, doesn't that feel so much better?