Secret One: Other People Have Crap Kids

The Anti-Mommy’s Guide to Proper Parental Behavior
Rule One: Don’t let your kid say weird shit to other kids
Why, pray tell, do some mommies think that anything their little Oshkosh-wearing freak says is cute? I swear to God, I can’t count how many mothers I’ve run into over the past two and a half years – at play dates, the express lane at Publix, pediatrician waiting room – that obviously believe their kid is amusing.
I took Kaiser to Target to search for a Halloween costume. Yes, I waited ‘til the last minute, because I do not think a two-year old’s costume (that he’ll ultimately destroy with chocolate slobber) should be planned a month in advance. Shit. If I didn’t think Jed would kill me, I’d throw a sheet over the kid, call him a toddler spook, and be done with it. No one cares what your kid is for Halloween. Even if they say they do, they don’t.
Whoa. Aside. Sorry.

So yes, we were at Target. We find a costume. Thomas the Tank Engine (I know, you don’t care.) We get to the register and there’s a mom and her kid, older than Kaiser (four-ish), in front of us in line. The boy is strange. I mean, I know I’m not supposed to make fun of how a child looks, and I’m not. Mostly. But he was strange. Like The Omen’s Damien-kinda ghoulish. And so we’re standing there, Kaiser stealing sips of my Diet Coke and holding his newly acquired bouncy ball from the junk machine at Old Navy.
And the kid is all like, “Heyyyyy.”

We ignore him.

“Heeeeyyyyy der.”

I sorta smile at the little creepo, because that’s what you do. Give the half-smile and hope his mother will remind him not to talk to strangers. She doesn’t.

“Heeeeyyy der, little boy. Whatchu got?” He points to Kaiser’s neon orange ball.

Now, what the fuck kind of four year old calls another kid, “little boy?” Is that weird to anyone other than me?

“It’s mah bouncy ball,” Kaiser holds it out toward Weaselface.

“Ooooh. What’s dat, mom?” kid asks his mother who, until now, had her lipstickless face buried in a Star Magazine.

“It’s a ball. It bounces. Wheeee.” The mom smiles at her little weasel.

Like, ok. Wait. He doesn’t know what a ball is? And mom thinks this is normal? I stare, mouth agape. I don’t know what to do. It was like meeting the Amish. And the mom didn’t realize that her child was a weirdo, saying freaky things? How do you not get it? Or not care? And who says, “Wheeee?”

“Ooooh. Da little boy haz bouncy ball. Mommy, what it do?”

Really?

She smiles. “It bounces.”

Oh my onion ring. What is up with this kid? Hello, mom? Please make him shut up. Please pay for your Slim-Fast, Little Golden book and really heinous nail polish and go home. Or go cave. Just go.

The Ghoulster then reaches out to take the ball from Kaiser. I was ready, willing and oh-so-able to step in, but see – my kid’s not weird. He knows what a ball is, knows that he loves it, and sure as hell knows not to let it fall into the grimy hands of an uncouth Banshee.

“Cole’s ball,” Kaiser snaps at the kid and steps behind me. I shrug. Ok, so maybe it wasn’t polite. But how’s about keeping your weird offspring from harassing a smaller child and we’ll call it even?
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2 Comments

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2 responses to “Secret One: Other People Have Crap Kids

  1. La Feroce Bete

    Did the kid smell like febreeze and olives? I think I’ve seen him.

  2. Cary

    I never tried porkin’ beans right out of the can like that. I need to try it. Would save me some heating time.

    Hot or cold, though, one must keep a vigilant eye out for the little white slab of porkfat. You don’t want to eat that, trust me.

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