I realize that this writer occasionally opines on the subject of children--and usually not that positively. This post is no exception--so you have been warned. Although, this really speaks more those challenged adults who felt confident enough in their parenting skills to inflict the products of such misguided thinking on the rest of us.
Saturday morning, after having a relaxing morning I headed out for some power shopping with two primary goals in mind: 1) floor lamp, and; 2) new bed for the guest room. I'm in Lamps Plus five minutes or so when I hear a thump, then a crash, then a shrill voice that I'm sure Sophie can hear back at home imploring an obstreperous delinquent by the name of "Bryce" to pull it together, shut up, and act his age. I'm always struck by what many parents today are willing to put up with. One thump, much less a crash, and my happy ass would've been ordered outside to sit and wait. But no. All of us in the store were regaled alternately by pleading ("I'm just trying to pick out some cool lighting for your room" ) to shaming ("I'm so embarassed for you--a boy your age acting like this"). Now, by this time, my allegiance had switched to Bryce. I wondered if his acting this way was a cry for help--a deliberate attempt to push his mother over the edge so that he could be rescued by a relative whose voice didn't cause coyotes to weep. This woman clearly had lost any sense that there were other people in the store who could hear her futile screeching. Now, I know people who know the challenges inherent in taking children out in public and would' ve tsked disapprovingly in Bryce's direction--understanding the frustration that Bryce's mother was feeling. However, why is it I have a strong hunch that Bryce's behavior in Lamps Plus that day is part of a giant chicken coming home to roost in a nest built by Medusa?
Later same day....I'm loading Sophie in the truck when I look across the parking lot and see a lone toddler--maybe 3-4 years old, standing on a curb only inches from being in a busy parking lot. Parking lot is relatively quiet, but I start to walk across in case I need to snatch her out of harm's way. Suddenly a voice from somewhere yells "TAMRA--don't you dare step off that curb--don't make me come out there!" Tamra promptly steps into the street and at any minute I expect to see a panicked parent come running. Instead, The Voice tells someone to "go get your sister out of the street." Mere moments later an older boy comes out, picks up Tamra and disappears back into some apartment.
And still later the same day... I'm leaving my mother's house and I pass a man riding a bicycle. He has all the required accessories, including a helmet. But, he also has a small child riding on his shoulders--with no helmet. So, the one who is clearly already brain damaged wears the helmet and leaves the child open to serious injury should he lose control of the bike and drop her. What the hell???
And yes, still later...I get in the drive-thru queue at Wendy's to get a Diet Coke and in front of me is a mini-van with a licence plate frame that informed disterested people that someone associated with said van is an alumni of Brigham Young University. I'll admit my brain fetched the most easily accessible stereotype and I muttered to myself that that van was probably full of more children. A fatherly head sticks out from said van and yells into the drive-thru ordering-thing: "We need 5 junior cheeseburgers, 3 orders 99 cent chicken nuggets, 6 orders of fries, 1 grilled chicken sandwich, 5 small Sprites, 2 large diet Cokes and 2 large Frostys." At this point, no one had misbehaved and I'd heard only the sound of a father ordering dinner, but I couldn't fathom a scenario in which my quest for a simple diet Coke might be thwarted by a missing order of nuggets or a burger that had an unwelcome addition of mustard. So, as no one was behind me, I backed up and out of the line, and drove straight home.
