Saturday, July 22, 2006

Just Shoot Me!

I don’t mind kids. Sometimes I even really like them. They can be adorable, cute and all things nice. (And just when you let your guard down, they can morph into little devils!) No really, I do like kids. Most of the time.

I was flying to New York recently and on the rather long, boring and late flight I decided to get some shut-eye. It was during my shoe fitting at Ferragamo that I felt a sharp jab of pain in my arm. Shouldn’t my feet hurt, if there has to be any pain in the first place? And then it hit me, oh wait a minute, am on a flight, catching some zzzs, and anyway who buys shoes at Ferragamo?? So I frantically open my eyes and almost jump up from my seat half expecting the plane to go hurtling down. But no such luck. It was just a kid. A pint sized devil who decided the coloring books were too blasé for him and while his own mom napped, he proceeded to work his green marker on my beautiful crisp white shirt! Great! I was outraged. I turned to the mom expecting her to deal with her tiny tornado, instead, she gives me a sheepish grin and says,”Oh am so sorry! But they are just kids, what can you do?” What? Certain Chinese torture methods come to mind. But yeah, what can you do? Consumed by awkward political correctness, I rushed to assure her it was ok. Kids right?

It was a good thing we had reservations at Tao later that night. I needed a drink. And they don’t allow kids in there.

Ever been to a popular restaurant for a Sunday brunch with teeming family patrons? Every time you want to head to the buffet line, its like tackling a collision course with all the children running around(though it works well for my diet!). When I set my eyes on the dessert plate, I want my path cleared damnit, and then, if I see a little tyke coming straight at me or hovering dangerously close, I have my own strategy! I put on my war face. Stops them dead in their tracks. They of course scurry frightened and I put on my innocent lil’, ‘what, me??’, face. Works like a charm. Every time.

Something about the Art Of War!

And we all know how psychotic parents seem to turn once they have kids. But seriously if I run into one more parent who forces their kids to ‘perform’ in their living-rooms or elsewhere, in front of their guests or friends, I really might just die. I don’t want your kid to deliver his prize-winning speech, favorite poem, latest dance moves or expert rendition of a song unless I explicitly ask for it. Can’t you see the poor kid is miserable? Worse are the kids who enjoy it. They grow up to rule countries. And we all know how that story goes.

Have you ever been on the phone with a new mom? They stop mid-sentence and start talking to their kid and you are left thinking of many choice expletives and just when you are warming up, they are back with you! And the kind who insist on putting their babies to gurgle on the phone are the worst kind. Am not interested. And let the damn kid learn how to talk first. Geez.

Yes we know kids are adorable. But sometimes they are just downright painful and you have to call them on it. Really. I mean there’s just so much pressure to turn into a gushing, fawning nincompoop as soon as you see a kid! Bah!

Am not Cruella. But don’t turn me into Mary Poppins!

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