In Need Of Valium

(I am eight years old. My mom and I are shopping, and we pass the drug store.)

Mom: “I need to go there.”

Me: “Mommy, no, I’m tired! I wanna go home; let’s go home!”

Mom: “No. It’ll be quick.”

(Mom pulls me into the drug store.)

Me: “Why do we have to go here? It’s a bad place!”

Mom: “Oh, really? Why do you say that.”

Me: “Yeah, it’s called a drug store, and I heard that drugs are bad! On TV!”

Mom: “Uh huh.”

Me: *to other customers* “DRUGGIES! You’re bad people! Drugs are BAD—”

(My mom hustles me out of there and never takes me back!)