The Side of the Cereal Box

In the last year, I’ve collected a good amount of mental notes about what kind of children I intend to raise (or, for you picky English teachers out there: “intend to rear“). Whenever I see an appalling display of poor behavior (by a child or his/her parent), I tend to make my disappointment known (at a volume that may be picked up by the offenders). Here are some examples of some such incidents:

Exhibit A:
Early in the summer, I took Jeremy, Katie, and Nicole to the “Summer Movie Camp” (as it used to be called; not sure what they call it now). There was a free showing of Shrek playing at the Regal Cinema out in Avon, and since I know that every daycare within 20 miles will bring their anklebiters to an event like this (so that the caregivers can “take a break”, so they think), we left early and arrived before they had even unlocked the doors.

It was pouring down rain, so we sprinted to the overhang to wait - along with the children from two daycares (all around 4-6 years in age). When they finally unlocked the doors, everyone, naturally, moved towards them. However, one rude child from the “green” daycare, as I shall name it (according to their t-shirts), was apparently so excited that he felt it necessary to shove Nicole backwards (into me, nearly knocking her to the ground) so that he could get through the door first. One of the teachers, after seeing what had happened (but more because of my obvious frustration) apologized as she went through the door, but said nothing to the offending child once she was inside. Fault: child and teacher. My children will not be like this, and neither will I!

Exhibit B:
Last Thursday, there was an Irish Fest preview concert on the canal downtown (behind the Historical Society building). I met my best friend Cris there, and we found a good spot on the stairs from which to watch the concert. As we sat down, a “nice” lady informed us that there were some people planning to sit behind where we were and “stretch their legs out” to where we were sitting (three stairs down from their blankets, with two more stairs in front of us). I wasn’t in the mood to be driven from that ample spot (everybody was crammed in there; I didn’t see a sign that said they had special exemption from being crowded!), so I just turned around and told Cris, “Hm, too bad. I don’t feel like moving.” She laughed. (She knew I was in a mood; best friends are so understanding!) The people made their irritation known (not too loudly) when they returned, but they were polite …for a while.

I tolerated the movement behind me as they got up and down to go get food and drinks (it was expected, and didn’t bother me). For a while, I even tolerated their small boy (around 2 years old) using the tip of his shoe to constantly flap the waistband of my jeans (meanwhile, I’m sure, getting dirt on my white shirt). I casually brushed my shirt off, pulled it down further, and scooted forward on the stair in an effort to discourage him. Not two minutes later (in what I hope was an epileptic fit, but I assume was hyperactive enthusiasm for the music) the child kicked me in the lower portion of my back - HARD. After crying out in pain, (dramatically loud, I’ll admit, since it didn’t appear that the child’s mother had been paying attention at all) his mother leaned forward and said, “Oh, did he kick you? Are you alright?” (Note that she didn’t apologize.) I said “yes” to both questions, though the first “yes” was an incredulous “yes” and the latter “yes” was more of an annoyed “yes”.

That’s when I heard one of the other ladies sitting behind us comment, “Maybe you should move down.” *STEAM* Fortunately I didn’t have to make a reply because one of the nice, older ladies in front of us turned around and said, “We can move forward! Here, we’ll give you some more room.” She scooted her lawn chair forward a bit and quietly added, “Don’t you hate that? It’s just like when you get on an airplane and have some stupid kid behind you kicking your seat!” Her friend laughed, and I replied, “I hate it more when the parents don’t do anything about it.” (At “parents”, I cast a glance behind me while raising my voice, as if to make my point clear.) Both the ladies agreed with me. Once again, Fault: child and parent. Once again, my children will not be like this, and neither will I!

And finally, Exhibit C:
Just yesterday, my family went out to lunch after church at Arby’s. With myself, Sarah, Bubbs, Mom, Dad, Noah, Hope, Amanda, Brian, and Chloe, it was difficult to find seating together - especially since the grouped, “long” tables were already occupied by another church group (as it appeared). But to be specific, they were occupied in the elevated area by the parents, and on the main floor, near the window (on the other side of the restaurant), by the children (none over 10 years old). As we tried to find tables to sit at, we looked with dismay at the sticky, dirty, trash covered tables that the children had obviously been hard at work on. (And that was almost all the tables in the restaurant, by the way.) Meanwhile, while pulling tables together, Mom and Dad had to compete with the hoodlums who were now digging rocks out of the planter grate in the floor and stacking them in the branches of the tree. Mom finally gave them a polite “what-for” and they left us alone, mostly. (One ran into the chair that Chloe’s carseat was sitting on and nearly knocked it off; thank goodness Chloe wasn’t in it at the time.)

In the parents’ defense, young Simon did get a talking to from his dad at one point, but that was the most parental supervision those children had as they ran willy-nilly about the restaurant: ringing the bell, climbing into every booth, sliming every table, and still looking to steal a rock when Mom wasn’t looking. (And don’t even get me started on their volume.) Again we see a trend in Fault: children and parents. And again, I say, “My children will not be like this, and neither will I!”

Disclaimer: Children will do what children do. I understand that, but it is not an excuse to allow them to exhibit socially unacceptable behavior. It is the parents’ responsibility (or whatever adult is out with them) to not only model good behavior, but also expect it of their children. This involves training (discipline) and time. Parenting, a full-time job? Don’t be deluded into thinking for one moment that it isn’t. It’s also challenging, demanding, and undervalued. (And in some cases, too easy to come by.) But to the Algates, the Beans, the Harrisons, the Brenners, the Millers, the Kohlmeiers (and my parents): you’re turning out some great kids! You may not always be the perfect parent, and we may not always be the pefect children, but don’t give up on us or yourselves! God is in the process of refining all of us, and so long as we are in His will and following His path, it’ll all work out in the end.

“Be strong and take heart, all you who hope in the Lord.” Psalm 31:24