The Nerve of Some People
We were at this thing this weekend that billed itself as a "Kidsfaire" but really it was all about little booths set up to sell you life insurance or how to work from home with a few freebies thrown in.
They did have activities for the kids, which is why we went in the first place. They sure sounded better in the descriptions, though.
Anyhoo, we noticed a booth put on by the Water Resource Board or some such bureaucratic black-hole type of agency. It had a simulated fishing game with a fishing rod, and after you played it, you got a little trophy and a free polaroid.
Free trophy and polaroid? Dude, we were so there.
We were waiting in line for almost a half hour when finally it was time for the family in front of us to take their turn. The father had taken the son off to another booth because it was taking a long time and the boy was getting antsy. I understood. In fact, I was rather glad he took him away because he was beginning to be a whiny annoyance that was better off many feet away from me rather than an inch.
So the mom calls the dad back over and all of a sudden there is a little boy standing in front of us. Now, I watched this family and their shenanigans for at least fifteen minutes, and I could have sworn there was only one boy.
I nudge Hubba-hubba.
"Have you seen that child before?"
"Oh yeah, he's with that family."
"Really?"
"Yeah, he came over with the dad."
I am looking and wondering why this family is paying not the slightest bit of attention to this child. He is standing there with his hands behind his back, about four years old or so, looking as innocent as the day he was born.
I know this kid does not belong to this family. I confirm this with the family. Then I lean over and say to him, "Honey, where is your mommy? Because we are next in line."
From out of absolutely thin air materializes Mom. "Is there a problem?" she asks, all wide-eyed ignorance.
"Why yes, it seems your son has cut into the front of the line. We have been waiting a half an hour or more, and we are next."
Feigning complete lack of knowledge that her son has done anything even remotely wrong, she pulls him away and says, "Honey, this woman says you cut in line, so I guess we will have to go back here."
Um, excuse me?
You, rude and deliberately clueless Mom, know darn well your son does not belong at the front of the (very long) line, and please stop trying to sound like I am making the whole thing up. I am sorry that you picked the wrong person to plant your son in front of, thinking perhaps I would not say anything and just realize that your time is much, much more important than mine.
In fact, that's exactly how I like to spend my time, spinning fantastical yarns about other people's kids.
Right.
We all know I like to spend it folding laundry, now don't we?
They did have activities for the kids, which is why we went in the first place. They sure sounded better in the descriptions, though.
Anyhoo, we noticed a booth put on by the Water Resource Board or some such bureaucratic black-hole type of agency. It had a simulated fishing game with a fishing rod, and after you played it, you got a little trophy and a free polaroid.
Free trophy and polaroid? Dude, we were so there.
We were waiting in line for almost a half hour when finally it was time for the family in front of us to take their turn. The father had taken the son off to another booth because it was taking a long time and the boy was getting antsy. I understood. In fact, I was rather glad he took him away because he was beginning to be a whiny annoyance that was better off many feet away from me rather than an inch.
So the mom calls the dad back over and all of a sudden there is a little boy standing in front of us. Now, I watched this family and their shenanigans for at least fifteen minutes, and I could have sworn there was only one boy.
I nudge Hubba-hubba.
"Have you seen that child before?"
"Oh yeah, he's with that family."
"Really?"
"Yeah, he came over with the dad."
I am looking and wondering why this family is paying not the slightest bit of attention to this child. He is standing there with his hands behind his back, about four years old or so, looking as innocent as the day he was born.
I know this kid does not belong to this family. I confirm this with the family. Then I lean over and say to him, "Honey, where is your mommy? Because we are next in line."
From out of absolutely thin air materializes Mom. "Is there a problem?" she asks, all wide-eyed ignorance.
"Why yes, it seems your son has cut into the front of the line. We have been waiting a half an hour or more, and we are next."
Feigning complete lack of knowledge that her son has done anything even remotely wrong, she pulls him away and says, "Honey, this woman says you cut in line, so I guess we will have to go back here."
Um, excuse me?
You, rude and deliberately clueless Mom, know darn well your son does not belong at the front of the (very long) line, and please stop trying to sound like I am making the whole thing up. I am sorry that you picked the wrong person to plant your son in front of, thinking perhaps I would not say anything and just realize that your time is much, much more important than mine.
In fact, that's exactly how I like to spend my time, spinning fantastical yarns about other people's kids.
Right.
We all know I like to spend it folding laundry, now don't we?
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