Children (Monsters) Parents (Even Worse)

Do you have children? You do? You don't? Wait, you do and you over there, you don't. Well where is your child now? Do you know? Is it a boy or a girl? Both? Gross, good luck naming it. Anyway, as someone who doesn't yet have any offspring I'm gonna tell you about your child. No no no I don't want to see pictures. In fact, nobody does. Just shut up and listen to what is painfully obvious to everyone but you.

Painfully, painfully, painfully obvious.

I am not family, do NOT show me pictures.

Just don't. I work in a business that makes me be a people person. If you couldn't tell thus far, by nature, I am not said people person. This automatically makes dealing with "Average Americans" a little difficult without you showing me pictures of your varmints. I don't know what impulse you get that says, "Hey, this guy made introductions! Lets re-run the entire family history complete with collectible mug by him and make him listen!" Ignore it. I don't want that. And way more importantly, I don't care. When I sold clothes, I had to ask people for their ID. Right next to the identification there would sometimes be pictures of whatever creature this person helped to make. I would wait in fear, hoping and wishing that this person would see that I was more interested in getting my testicles chased by an iguana than looking at his offspring. Inadvertently I would flit my eyes down in horror, and by some sort of terrible luck this person would see my glance at their children and mistake it for interest. "Oh, I see you noticed my family!" he says with a grin. "My mistake, sorry." I mumble through a forced smile.

"Oh, I noticed you noticed my spawn. Wanna know how much he shits?"

Jesus Christ. Oh and that reminds me...

Your child stinks.

Young children stink. They make a little cutesy poopsey in there wittle biddy pants and run around leaving a noxious odor similar to dead trout all over the room. It's a function of nature, to be sure, but it requires immediate attention away from me. Don't just whip out the dookey kit in the middle of the barber shop and expose me to that! I already have that to look forward to, and one of my precious few freedoms before I have my own little monster is to not be subject to a nasty nanny muggins in my peripheral. And guess what else contributes to this wonderful perfume of foulness? All the half eaten food all on its face and clothes. Yay pudding all in its hair and apple sauce on its shirt. Yay for that sticky gooey mess that covers it hands that can only consist of god knows what. I don't want it touching me,and I don't want it touching my stuff.

Don't even buy baby clothes, it'll wear it's food more anyway.

Buy A Leash, Or A Cage

I once had to bail an Irish guy out of jail at around midnight (one more checked off my bucket-list) and in the waiting lobby with me was a Mexican couple. With them at midnight in a jail lobby was their child of a rather young age. Try like three. As I was sitting in my respective chair contemplating the awful lighting and terrible paint job that is a jail lobby, this tyke comes up to me and started chewing on my jeans. It didn't grab skin or anything, it just caught hold of a fold in my pant leg and started nom nom noming away getting baby saliva all over me. Not sure if kicking my leg was legal, and considering my surroundings, I kind of just froze up and looked at the parents for help. Not only did they see what was going on, they were smiling. This kid is covering me in spit and leftover kiddie mush, and they were just smiling away looking me dead in the eye. I don't want to push their child away for fear it might fall over and hurt itself, and I don't want to yell at it because it's not my fucking responsibility. So I said "Excuse me," to the couple. "Que?" the father says back. "Your kid!" I say with undisguised disgust. "Que?" he replies. "Please...restrain your child sir!" I plead, feeling the moisture of this kid soaking my whole leg. "Si!" he replies with a smile, totally not understanding a word I've just said. I basically had to slowly hold/push this kid off me till he shrieked, and then get berated with a foreign warning to probably not touch their child again or else. I mean, what the hell did they think was gonna happen anyway? Oh yeah, by the way...

You Suck As A Parent

Now don't take offense just yet. Before you start exhaling doughnut crumbs in your haste to teach me a thing or two...I know what you're gonna say. Yes, I know that I am not a parent. Since I'm not a parent, I couldn't possibly know how difficult it is to raise a child and be with it all the time and watch it all the time and feed it all the time and clean up after it all the time and take care of its every need and want all the time and all that mess! I know that! I feel your pain!

This hurts me too!

It would just seem to be that there are some basic simple easy parenting things that even a teenage mother can go ,"Duh...even I know that!" Things like:

     Keep Your Child Close

I've seen parents that let their child wander and that's fine as long as it's in the appropriate setting.

Shown: Not an appropriate setting.

I'll be in the line at Wal-Mart and a lady with three kids is thumbing through a magazine while two of her three fledgelings are trying to steal my wallet. Sometimes I'll see a kid just break off of the main herd and go it's own direction. It's almost as if a child snatcher was just trying to lure it into a dark out of the way place. Oh, and for you people who think it's cute when your child interacts with other people. Study that person's face reeeeeaaaalll goooood before allowing said interaction to continue. Because if that person is not smiling you need to gather your child right the fuck now. Because the last child that tried to steal my wallet wound up with a severe case of "Holy shit this guy can get loud!" And don't try to scream at me for yelling/removing/throwing your child screeching back into your arms. If you had read the signs I wouldn't have to be the village parent for you and teach your kid a lesson.

     Reserve Your Tantrums For Your Own Privacy

Rearing a child can be stressful. I've seen enough screaming parents to know that psychotic breakdowns are plentiful and around every corner. That in no way gives you the right though to have one in the middle of a McDonalds.

"I got your Apple Fries right here!"

Watching parents scream at kids in public places is bad for everyone. It's embarrassing your child, shaming your parenting skills, and making me (the mob) very angry in defense of the child. I'm not talking about your average reprimand either, I'm talking about the top of your voice, swearing, flailing, shrieking at your child in the middle of a Baskin Robbins type freak out. It happens all the time. Sometimes quickly, sometimes in long drawn out scenes eventually ending with "Mind ya own damn bizness, bitch! Dis is mah child an I can do what de fuck I wan' with em!" That may be your child, but DSS is going to look at that security footage very carefully before they let you go. As far as I see, those types of things don't need to happen at all. Least of all around me while I'm trying to read Game Informer at the Barnes And Noble.

     Don't Tell Others How To Raise Their Child

Unfortunately, "Dat's yo child an you CAN do what de fuck yo wan' with em." Just because you are a parent and successfully raised three children into perfect model citizens doesn't give you the right to preach to others about their kids. Don't preach to me about how to eventually raise my monsters either unless you want Uncle Flannigan to one day tell your kids about the time you messed with a bison.

"So there he was. Readin' Game Informer at Barnes And Noble..."

I don't care if your little shit is and honor student at his school, my Jack Russel is named after alcohol and is way cooler. I don't care if your little shit graduated with honors or has a great job sucking corporate dick making six figures. The Bison doesn't care! The second you cast your disdainful eyes on me for how my stinky, loud, obnoxious turns out, I will go from this:

(Handsome Devil)

To this:

Do I sound like a hypocrite? It's because I am. Be thankful I didn't talk at all about the fact that you will probably never get good sleep every again or pay almost all of your money out for most of your life. Happy hatching!