Friday, November 05, 2004

Poor Thing

A month or so ago we all went to Disneyland. We live quite close to it and we have annual passes, so we go at least three times a month or so.

As my son was playing (meaning-trying to climb into) at the circular fountain that is at the entrance to the tram loading station, my husband and I noticed another set of parents on the other side. They were actually quite hard to miss. Mom had pink and black hair, a large nose ring, other piercings, multiple tattoos in obvious and most likely not so obvious places. She was dressed mostly in black, wore black Doc Martens and black and white striped socks.

Dad had a shock of bleached white hair that stood straight at attention, one of those "bolts" in his earlobe (I am so unhip now, I do not know the official name for it), various other piercings, a T-shirt with an obscenity, more tattoos than Mom, and the black Martens.

Their son had a faux-hawk, black baggy shorts, I believe the T-shirt had a skull on it, and the ubiquitous boots, kid-sized. He was all of four, maybe five.

I turned to my husband after they left the area and said, "How is that poor child going to rebel when he becomes a teenager?" The only thing he can do is dress in button down shirts and khakis, become a business major, and learn how to golf. That should really piss them off.

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