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Only In Seattle

    It was a slow afternoon at the tiny Seattle coffee shop.  As I opened the door, a group of three school-aged boys ran in front of me.  Each of the boys was lugging an overloaded backpack with them.  They obviously had just left the private school a couple of blocks down the street.  As I perused the menu, the three boys placed their orders, all the while joking with one another.  The first two each requested a pastry and a glass of water.  The third boy studied the menu a bit longer before deciding.

       “Umm. . . I’d like a tall espresso, double shot, please.”
 
       The cashier giggled a bit, thinking that her young customer was just repeating something he had heard adults order. After a few seconds, she jokingly said to him, “Alright. . . whatever.”

       Noticing that the boy seemed serious, she looked puzzled.  Then, she responded with an incredulous, “Wait.  Are you sure?”
       The boy could not believe he was being questioned.
       “Yeah . . . definitely,” he said, adding “I drink them all the time!”
       At this, the cashier piped up, “Does your mother know?”
       Without missing a beat, the boy answered “Sure she does.  She makes them for me.” 

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