Oh, Those Kids!

I’m at the Starbucks ™ by my house.

And, I am surrounded by monsters. Not the thorny, fire-breathing, murderous kind of monster of days olde, but torturous nonetheless and immensely more frightening than Loch Ness, Big Foot, Dracula, Jason, and The Night Strangler combined. Eight stay-at-home types in flip-flops, tank tops, low-rider jeans, shoes that were hip three years ago, darling bags, and hair clips. The monsters came with their moms: Mommy monsters and offspring monsters. These monsters are in tutus and Velcro ™ shoes. These little killers wear Crocs ™ and can’t seem to keep their hands out of their mouths or their nasty hands off of everything. Devils from Tasmania.

Here’s the reason I don’t like the little turds: their so-called caretakers, their mothers, have left them largely unattended. One mom is reading the paper (the local community paper though, not one with news or anything), the other seem engaged with an apple fritter and some drink that must have about 900 calories in whipped cream alone. The other three have huddled into a discussion group, something about drop-off times for soccer or gymnastics or some other activity where someone else takes care of their children. And, group number three over in the corner huddled in conversation.

I’ve been here for 15 minutes and haven’t heard word one about current events. I want to say, “excuse me, did you know the Middle East is on fucking fire right this very minute, actions that could have long-term affects on your kids?”

One little shit just shouted, “Daddy mows the lawn!” Good for “Daddy.”

Oh, did I say the kids were “largely unattended?” Sorry, let me correct that: unattended (period). This one three year old is pushing this big ass yuppie stroller around, directly in the way of the condiment/napkin/stirrer bar. His little play date is just dropping shit on the floor. She got the easy job.

The little ballerinas are either climbing on the barstools (the tall ones) or playing with the shelved coffee. Starbucks ™ is a goddamn playground today. One just said hi to me as he jumped off the upholstered chair. Hi.

I cannot tell if it’s depression, the anti-depressives, or simple lack of values, parenting skills, or some sort of undeserved entitlement, but this is some of the very worst parenting I’ve ever seen. And, it’s not the first time I’ve witnessed this scene, here and elsewhere.

Intervening interactions take the form of, “Now Mommy thinks that we shouldn’t take all the milk containers out of the display…can you stay right here while we [Mommy] puts these all back…Ethan, Ethan!” Or, “Honey, I told you not to jump off of that chair.”

My first thought when I arrived here was, “Holy shit! My kid is so well-behaved compared to…to this.”

Oh, here’s one taking all the papers off the dispenser. Just taking ‘em off and dropping them to the floor. It’s no wonder the Washington Post ™ sucks, they must be just leaking money due to this disaster alone. Caretaker just stroked her darling little head. This is the action from group number three. More 1,700-calorie beverages and in-group discussion. While the kids are doing whatever the hell they want.

I don’t dislike these children. Their parents are a lost cause though. Someday, and if things continue to go the way they appear, I will dislike these children.