Keeping William Cool

I went shopping today at Walmart, which is already risky enough without adding screaming children into the mix. You can’t so much as sneak in for a loaf of bread without tripping over a pallet of “seasonal must-haves” you didn’t know you needed.

But today wasn’t about me—it was about the show that unfolded in Aisle 7. I found myself behind a grandfather and his grandson.

Now, I’ve seen plenty of kids melt down in stores before—heck, I probably had a few public meltdowns of my own back when Kennedy was in office—but this boy was putting on an absolute Broadway-level performance.

He screamed for candy, cookies, soda, and anything with bright packaging, the whole works. The grandfather, though, was calm as an oak tree in a breeze.

“Easy, William, we won’t be long,” he said in this steady, measured voice.

You could almost imagine soft jazz playing behind his words. The kid escalated, shrieking as if the shelves of Oreos had personally offended him.

But granddad just kept going, “It’s okay, William. Just a couple more minutes and we’ll be out of here. Hang in there, boy.”

By the time we reached the checkout line, the little one had reached peak chaos—throwing items from the cart like a major-league pitcher warming up before the big game. Cans were rolling on the floor, a box of Cheerios made a daring escape, and I swear I saw a cashier silently praying for early retirement.

And still, the man never flinched, “William, William, relax, buddy, don’t get upset. We’ll be home in five minutes. Stay cool, William.”

I tell you, it floored me. My blood pressure goes up just standing in line behind a slow coupon clipper, and here’s this man dealing with a live tornado disguised as a child, and he sounds like he’s narrating a meditation app.

So naturally, when we all ended up in the parking lot, I couldn’t keep quiet.

As he was loading groceries and a still-wiggling boy into the car, I said, “Sir, it’s none of my business, but I just want to say—I was amazed by you in there. The patience, the calm, no matter how disruptive little William got, you stayed collected. He’s very lucky to have you as his granddad.”

The man smiled, shook his head, and said, “Thanks, but I’m William. The spoiled brat’s name is Kevin.”

I stood there blinking, then laughed so hard I nearly dropped my sack of coffee and dog food. The whole time, inspired by the grandfatherly patience, it turns out the man was talking himself down from the ledge.

And you know what? That might actually be the brightest trick I’ve ever seen.

We all need a “William” in our back pocket—some calm, imaginary version of ourselves we can talk to when life turns into a checkout-line circus. Kids or no kids, there are days when it feels like everything is loud and demanding and wants candy right now.

Maybe we should all take a breath and say, “Easy, William. Just a couple more minutes. Stay cool.”

Common sense tells me the world isn’t getting any less chaotic, but humor, tenderness, and a little self-talk might keep us sane, and if nothing else, it beats yelling at the Oreos.

So here’s to William—whoever he is for you. May he always keep you steady when Kevin shows up.