Barista wisdom

At Starbucks, I'm trying to place my order while getting Peanut under control. He is talking incessantly, repeating the same thing over and over, and knocking down food in the cooler.

Me: I'd like a Triple Grande White Chocolate Mocha.
Barista: Ok, anything else?
Me, eyeing Peaunt: A Xanax?
Barista, laughing: I don't have any kids and that's exactly why. It would have made me crazy.
Me: You know, this morning it's really more my husband than the kids.
Barista: Ah, that I can sympathize with.
Me: He took so long to get ready this morning that he missed two trains. Two! I had to drive him to Secaucus so he could get get to the city on time.
Barista: I wouldn't have done it. I would have let him be late. If he loses his job, oh well.
Me: He had to catch a train to Boston. And he's the breadwinner.
Barista: Ugh. I guess you had to, then.
Me: Uh-huh.
Barista: He's good looking isn't he?
Me: Very.
Barista, shaking her head and rolling her eyes: Men.

Should I be concerned

that my son took a little red sticker that said, "press here" and stuck it to his butt and then pulled down his underwear and said, "Hey Moon, press here!" and then said, "No wait," and took the sticker off his butt, then stuck it to his penis, then said, "No wait," and took it off his penis and stuck it to his testicles, and then shook with laughter while yelling, "Press here! Press my balls. Look, Moon! Press my balls! Mom, Press here! Press my balls!"?

Nah, that's totally normal, right?