Getting Into The Spirit Of This Parenting Thing

, , , , , | Right | August 24, 2018

(I am at the pharmacy queuing at the checkout. A woman behind me is also queuing with what I presume are her grandchildren. They are screaming, asking for a DVD which said she no to. We go to separate checkouts at the same time, where I overhear this.)

Cashier: “Do you want bags with those?”

Women: “I want some alcohol. It’s the children’s school holiday.”

(It definitely made my being in a shop with screaming kids worth it.)

Their Parenting Is A Sinking Kayak

, , , , , , | Related | August 21, 2018

A couple weeks ago a coworker of mine sold two kayaks and paged me from the loading dock to ask if I could help him load them for the customer. “Sure,” I replied, and made my way back to find the customer, his wife, and three screaming young children swarming around a minivan. The van did not have a kayak rack, only the roof rack it came with from the factory.

While my coworker and I manhandled the kayaks onto the roof, the customer assumed the role of “event coordinator.” He wanted them arranged a certain way — the most difficult possible, of course — and was never quite happy with the way we tipped, angled, and flipped the kayaks. Needless to say, my fellow worker and I spent a good 25 minutes with our arms over our heads, trying to steady the kayaks while the customer stood back, pondering his “vision.”

Not long into this ill-fated venture, one of the younger screaming children got out of the van, came over to where we were standing, and started poking at me. It began with a poke in the side. I’m not ticklish or anything, but it just wasn’t a comfortable feeling. I looked down at him and shook my head no. The fact that he was getting to me was intensely gratifying to him, because he escalated to punching me lightly in the side, back, and legs. With each hit, he became more bold and the blows began to pack on more force.

Inside the van, Mom made herself useful by being absorbed in her phone. Dad was too busy trying to craft a kayak Mona Lisa and paid the child no attention, either. After telling the kid, “No,” “Please stop,” and, “Don’t do that,” a half dozen times, I was getting pretty pissed.

Finally, while my attention was fixed upon yet another rearrangement of the kayaks, the kid tried to take my wallet and pocket knife out of the back of my pants. In a lightning-fast move, he then reached around front and gave me a hard sock right in the groin. That was it. I turned, gritted my teeth into the meanest scowl I could imagine and growled, “QUIT IT!”

Naturally, the kid started bawling and ran for the solace of his mother, who snapped out of la-la land and glared at me. Dad also gave me the stink eye, saying, “Thanks, but we’ve got it from here.” I forced myself to say, “Thanks, and you have a nice day,” before walking back inside.

You’ve got to love involved parents.

Build A Psycho Factory

, , , , | Related | August 17, 2018

(I am with my daughter and three-year-old granddaughter, taking her to a children’s store where you can build your own stuffed teddy bears. Part of the process is to pick the “heart” of your bear.)

Employee: *to Granddaughter* “This is the heart of your bear.”

Granddaughter: *eyes wide* “Ooh.”

Employee: “You need to give it a kiss, before we put it in your bear. That way your bear knows that you love him.”

(She kisses the “heart,” and then it’s placed into the stuffing in the bear’s chest. It’s then sent off to be made, with all the customised eyes, noses, clothes, etc. Later, we’re home, and my granddaughter comes over with her new bear.)

Granddaughter: “Heart.”

Me: “Yes, darling, your bear has a big heart.”

Granddaughter: “I want my heart.”

Me: “What do you mean, darling?”

Granddaughter: “It’s my heart.” *thrusts bear at me* “I want it.”

Me: “Oh, no, dear. The heart stays inside the bear. That’s how he knows you love him. He needs it to stay inside him.”

(My granddaughter ponders this for a moment, and then smiles.)

Granddaughter: “Okay!”

(She then wanders away. I follow her and see her looking around the kitchen.)

Me: *thinking she wants a snack* “What are you looking for, darling?”

Granddaughter: “Scissors.”

Never Too Old For A Tantrum

, , , , , , , | Friendly | August 9, 2018

(While walking down an aisle in a supermarket, I come upon a bedraggled-looking mom who is trying — but failing — to quiet her four-year-old in the middle of a loud and teary, “BUT I WANT IT!” tantrum. I impulsively decide to lend the mother an assist. As I pass by, I bend down so that the kid and I are face-to face, and with my most sincere-and-saddened voice and expression, I solemnly confide to her:)

Me: “You know, when I cry, my parents never buy me what I want.”

(The girl’s eyes immediately shoot wide open and she goes dead silent in mid-scream. I’m not sure if it is due to finding out that she is not, in fact, invisible, or just the idea of a sixty-year-old man crying because his parents won’t buy him something. As I continue down the aisle, I am concerned at first that the mother might not approve of my intervention, but I am reassured when a few seconds later, I hear the mother announcing to her daughter:)

Mother: “YUH SEE?

Spanks For Shopping With Us!

, , , , , , | Right | August 3, 2018

(I work at a local grocery store as a cashier. A lady comes up to my register with her two children: a boy and girl. As I begin to ring up their order, the boy starts running around the register screaming.)

Customer: “[Boy], shut the h*** up.”

(The boy became quiet. I finished up the order and stated the total. The mom started to go through her purse. I was then surprised when a ten-year-old’s hand spanked my bottom, and the kid started repeatedly saying I was a bad girl. The mother said nothing, and handed me a $20 to pay for their order like it nothing happened.)

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