I don’t know you. And I don’t know your kids.
I have no idea what they’re like, how they act in public, at restaurants, in movie theaters. I don’t know if they have good manners, if they curse, if they listen to you more than they don’t, if they eat their dinners without argument and clean their rooms when asked.
I’ve never met you and probably never will. I couldn’t pick you out in a lineup. (I hope you’re not in any line-ups.) I don’t know if you’re quick to yell, or if you’re lazy, or if you’re neglectful.
But that doesn’t matter. I know you’re a good parent.
It’s World Breastfeeding Week. I don’t think that means I get to partake, but I’m gonna go ahead and support it anyway. I mean, there’s no point in stopping now.
A few months ago I wrote something about breastfeeding, in which I suggested that many of us do far more disgusting things in public than those mothers who dare keep their helpless children alive through the miracle of biology.
The uproar over seeing a woman do something so natural, necessary and worthwhile always confuses me. But I think I’ve finally figured out why it makes some people so upset.
There are a lot of things kids aren’t: cooperative, obedient, quiet, funny.
But enough negativity! Today, I want to talk about what kids are.
Kids are annoying.
On Tuesday, the Huffington Post shared an article called “9 Things Kids Can Play With In-flight That Don’t Involve Technology” and I’m still laughing at this list.
I’ve read a lot of stupid things in my life, many of them on this very blog. But I’m not sure I’ve read anything as quite this delusional lately. (And I once compared my son to a bird!)
I may not truck with parents apologizing for flying with kids, but I would never willfully abuse my fellow passengers. Which is essentially what these suggestions boil down to.
We didn’t post one of those September/June, then/now photo comparisons.
Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about. You’re on Facebook; those things are everywhere.
It’s rare to find a parent who didn’t measure the passage of time by juxtaposing pictures of their kid’s first day of school in September with their kid’s last day of school in June. And then, with a mixture of pride (“He did it!”) and petulance (“He’s growing up too fast!”), they bemoan the passage of time, whine about how fast it’s all going, and bitch about how quickly kids grow up.
I call bullshit.