So I went to Trailer Trash Central last night - WalMart. I hate WalMart. Really. I renew my vow never to shop there again. I don’t know what it is about WalMart, but do parents rub dirt on the kids in the parking lot before they enter the store? I don’t care what time it is - early in the morning, middle of the afternoon, late night - but the there’s always dirty kids with stained shirts, messy hair and grape Kool-Aid moustaches running around the store like they’re crazy. And there’s some kid who is just screaming away and being ignored by the parents.
Last night there was a kid who wasn’t being watched by the mother and the little girl grabbed something off the shelf and threw it on the ground. It was a toy or something, not glass, but you could still tell it broke. So the mom picks it up and stuffs it inside a suitcase and walks away. Thanks lady - she’s probably one of those who complains about high prices all the time.
And then there was this kid who kept crying. For about twenty minutes. And I’m not without sympathy - it must be awfully hard to get your shopping done and have a small child and if they’re at the age where they want to throw a tantrum, you’re just kind of stuck until you train them to do otherwise. But it was 9:30pm and this kid was less than a year old and was either hungry, tired or wet and had that whiney, exhausted cry that, if you have common sense, recognize as beyond their control. Was mom shopping for last minute diapers? Formula? Medicine? No. She was out searching the $5 DVD bin. Then she was at the jewelry counter. Then shoe shopping. That’s just not right!
I’m starting to get really fed up with this. Last night I gave one kid a look - he was trying to pull my stuff out of the cart when we were in line. I gave him that look my mom must have given me a million times and he backed right off. Don’t tell me kids don’t know how to behave. Wouldn’t it be better if they learned from the parents and not complete strangers?
You are probably lucky the mom didn’t see The Look. Mama Bears don’t like nobuddy tellin’ them how to raise their kids (or their kids kids as the case often is).
When we lived in Sacramento we used to go to the dog park with a lunge whip (one of those really long rigid whips with a long cord on the end) with a stuffed toy tied on the end. We used it to play with Tahoe and to get other dogs to chase the stuffy in big circles but if too many dogs wanted to play or they started getting “overstimulated,” I’d set it aside against a tree with the stuffy up the tree so it wasn’t a temptation. The dog park was a bit of a hilly loop and Tahoe and I went to the other end a while and when I came back with him I saw a girl of about seven or so waving this long whip around, attracting the attention of dogs who were much bigger than she was but she’d kind of whack at them with the rigid part when they tried to get the toy.
I have to admit seeing this made me really mad.
The nearest adult was at least sixty yards away, and no nearby adults appeared to be paying any attention to her behaviour. I walked up and said, “Please give me that, It is mine and you should not be playing with it.”
“Why?” She said, but she let me take it from her and tuck the stuffed animal under my arm so the dogs lost interest. “Because it is not safe for you to play with.”
“Why?” Which is when I hear the bellow of an enraged mother. Oh great, _now_ someone pays attention to the mini-inquisitor.
“Did you just take that away from my child!!???!!” Angry voice, crazy face, still didn’t move her ass from where she was though, apparently mid-gossip with someone else at the top of a small hill.
I assume there was a dog off crapping unnoticed elsewhere that had come with them. Unless, as is also likely, she was one of those people who take their little kid to go “play with the doggies” at a dogpark. Don’t get me started.
Anyway.
“Yes.” I shouted back.
“Why!!!?She was playing with that!!”
“Because it is mine and she was not playing with it safely.”
“What are you talking about? She can play with it if she wants!!!”
“No, because it is not hers and it isn’t yours. It is mine and not a toy to be played with by a child, and she was not playing with it safely. I would feel responsible if she had been hurt or hurt someone else with it.”
A snort of disgust and outrage at my effrontery greeted this.
“What is wrong with you? NO she wouldn’t!!!”
“Nevertheless [I really did say “nevertheless,” it was a weird encounter all around] it is mine, and mine to say what is done with it. And I say it is not a toy and not to be played with by a small child.” And then Tahoe and I took our toy and left because this woman still had her outraged mother mode going fullbore and I wasn’t in the mood for it. It kind of ruined my day.
It was one of those surreal things though, where I was so angry that it was as if the moment was crystallised, and so surreal because 1) the absurdity of it and 2) I actually said those things, so calmly and so rationally, despite the fact I was seething with my own indignance and I’m usually so shocked by bad behavior of that sort (the who the f- are you to tell me what to do, I’m the only person that matters sort) that I usually don’t say anything, but think of a thousand and one retorts later. But running it back in my head as one does with these weird encounters, I couldn’t think of anything different to do, unless it was just let the little girl get her ass kicked by dogs fed up with being teased or by an owner who saw her hit their dog…or punch the woman in the nose, which I don’t think would have been a solution no matter how satisfying it is in the movie theater of the mind.
Um, sorry for the novel. ;|
Comment by spaazlicious — February 5, 2006 @ 4:18 am
You are probably lucky the mom didn’t see The Look. Mama Bears don’t like nobuddy tellin’ them how to raise their kids (or their kids kids as the case often is).
When we lived in Sacramento we used to go to the dog park with a lunge whip (one of those really long rigid whips with a long cord on the end) with a stuffed toy tied on the end. We used it to play with Tahoe and to get other dogs to chase the stuffy in big circles but if too many dogs wanted to play or they started getting “overstimulated,” I’d set it aside against a tree with the stuffy up the tree so it wasn’t a temptation. The dog park was a bit of a hilly loop and Tahoe and I went to the other end a while and when I came back with him I saw a girl of about seven or so waving this long whip around, attracting the attention of dogs who were much bigger than she was but she’d kind of whack at them with the rigid part when they tried to get the toy.
I have to admit seeing this made me really mad.
The nearest adult was at least sixty yards away, and no nearby adults appeared to be paying any attention to her behaviour. I walked up and said, “Please give me that, It is mine and you should not be playing with it.”
“Why?” She said, but she let me take it from her and tuck the stuffed animal under my arm so the dogs lost interest. “Because it is not safe for you to play with.”
“Why?” Which is when I hear the bellow of an enraged mother. Oh great, _now_ someone pays attention to the mini-inquisitor.
“Did you just take that away from my child!!???!!” Angry voice, crazy face, still didn’t move her ass from where she was though, apparently mid-gossip with someone else at the top of a small hill.
I assume there was a dog off crapping unnoticed elsewhere that had come with them. Unless, as is also likely, she was one of those people who take their little kid to go “play with the doggies” at a dogpark. Don’t get me started.
Anyway.
“Yes.” I shouted back.
“Why!!!?She was playing with that!!”
“Because it is mine and she was not playing with it safely.”
“What are you talking about? She can play with it if she wants!!!”
“No, because it is not hers and it isn’t yours. It is mine and not a toy to be played with by a child, and she was not playing with it safely. I would feel responsible if she had been hurt or hurt someone else with it.”
A snort of disgust and outrage at my effrontery greeted this.
“What is wrong with you? NO she wouldn’t!!!”
“Nevertheless [I really did say “nevertheless,” it was a weird encounter all around] it is mine, and mine to say what is done with it. And I say it is not a toy and not to be played with by a small child.” And then Tahoe and I took our toy and left because this woman still had her outraged mother mode going fullbore and I wasn’t in the mood for it. It kind of ruined my day.
It was one of those surreal things though, where I was so angry that it was as if the moment was crystallised, and so surreal because 1) the absurdity of it and 2) I actually said those things, so calmly and so rationally, despite the fact I was seething with my own indignance and I’m usually so shocked by bad behavior of that sort (the who the f- are you to tell me what to do, I’m the only person that matters sort) that I usually don’t say anything, but think of a thousand and one retorts later. But running it back in my head as one does with these weird encounters, I couldn’t think of anything different to do, unless it was just let the little girl get her ass kicked by dogs fed up with being teased or by an owner who saw her hit their dog…or punch the woman in the nose, which I don’t think would have been a solution no matter how satisfying it is in the movie theater of the mind.
Um, sorry for the novel. ;|
Comment by spaazlicious — February 5, 2006 @ 4:20 am