Most of my friends would think I'm the type to love playing with little children. A veritable Lady Bountiful known for lavishing little ones with love and affection. And up until recently I would have agreed with them.
But lately the Sesame Street set has really been driving me crazy.
I can think of a couple instances within the past two weeks where I have literally had to bite the inside of my cheeks to refrain from unleashing the beast within on juveniles running roughshod in adult venues.
I first became mildly perturbed at the Kenwood Sprint store. I've come to discover cell phone outlets are Hell's latest opportunity to punish living souls on Earth. That's the only explanation I can surmise for the sheer misery that comes every which way 'til Sunday while you wait for an upgrade or some other tweak. The line for some face time with a technician is painful enough. On top of that, somehow the Gods of Evil must send every yours-mine-and-ours family with a brood of eight or so to the Sprint Store at the same time, the same store, on the same night I choose to go.
The kids are running around, trying different ringtones, pranking their father, playing tag and hiding behind counters. All while Mom and Dad are debating over whether this speakerphone function is better than the one on that phone.
I mean, seriously. You're buying a cell phone people! Not a Buick. Grab the damn Samsung, pile your kids back in the Escalade and get the hell out of my airspace.
Last week I had lunch with a friend and decided to pop in the Sephora store. I love love love how this cosmetics heaven will let you try anything for free including the uber-expensive 70 dollar Rapture eyeshadow palate by NARS.
So, since when can so many teeny boppers afford the goods in this chi-chi store?
Okay, I know the tween set is going to be in love with anything that's a step up from Bonne Bell and Wet and Wild, and Sephora is really heavy on the sparkles and lotions and potions, as my mom calls them. But if I have a tough time and really hem and haw over a 25 dollar tube of mascara (I had to say no. I mean really. Everybody says the generic Maybelline pink and green tube is the best, anyway, and it's for like five bucks at any Kroger), then how do these kids have the cash to buy their day-glo pink lip gloss? Is babysitting really that good these days?
And that's when I thought to myself Ahhh. School must be starting back up soon.
Yesterday was my latest moment of inner outrage.
I was enjoying the neighborhood Fresh Market when the peace and calm of my deepest thoughts was interrupted by some shrill shrieking and the squeaking of some light-up high tops on linoleum.
Two moms were apparently pouring over every goddamn detail at the store Oh. I think this brand of fresh mozzarella tastes better... Do you think the color of that salmon sushi is more like a coral or an apricot?... Can you smell this rose? I mean really smell it? Put your nose down in there. Smell it? Meanwhile, they were letting their trolls run rampant, knocking peaches off displays and grabbing grubby handfuls of chocolate malted balls out of the bag-yourself containers.
I really had enough. And so I did the only thing I had the balls to do.
I gave The Moms a dirty look.
It was a quick one. I pretty much snapped my head away as quickly as I glared at them, but it was a fast, staring expression complete with furrowed eyebrow and sneered nose.
And I think one Mom even saw me.
I've been kind of bummed with this new discovery of myself. I've long considered myself an absolute child lover anxious for the days when I have my own tyke. SO why am I getting pissed off at so many kids lately?
And then I realized - it's not the kids. It's the parents. The grown-ups out there are doing a complete disservice to their little ones. They're forgetting to pass on the wonders of Please and Thank You, Excuse Me and other pleasantries that go along with manners and respect. Parents are so focused on their careers, their friends, their stuff, their relationships that they forget to take the time to teach their children to behave politely and respectfully in public.
I guess I can't really fault the brats for being bratty. Somebody had to make them like that, in the first place.