The Button

My youngest son and I were in CVS the other day, picking up a prescription. As we waited for it to be finished, we wandered through the toy aisle.

Most of the toys were pretty typical stuff, nothing that really grabbed his attention. He did stop, however, at a large red button. It had the words “PRESS ME” in bold white letters across its middle.

“What’s this?” he asked me.

I had no idea. “A button,” I said.

He glanced around to make sure no one was watching, then shot his hand out to press it.

DING, a┬ábell sounded over the intercom. “Customer assistance needed in the toy aisle,” DING, “Customer assistance in the toy aisle.”

He and I looked at each other, then at the button. Right there, in little white letters beneath the PRESS ME, were the words “for assistance.”

“Never mind,” I said loudly to the store. “No assistance needed.”

“We’re all fine here,” he added. “Really. Situation normal.”

…and we ran out of the aisle.

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