We've got a Stage 5 clinger...

Suttie rockin' the goggles

If you’ve ever told someone, “Tell me if she/he starts getting on your nerves,” in regard to your child overstepping some basic social boundary, you’re too late. It’s already happening.

I mean, there was a reason why you said it, right? A reason why you thought that little Cannon’s actions might not be especially pleasing to his unsoliciting target? Now imagine that he’s not your kid and that you’re not obligated to love him unconditionally. Are you there, in the place where you can see that what he’s doing is annoying as piss? Good, ‘cause you’re late to the party.

We’ve all been there – either as the bothersome kids or their oblivious parents or the poor soul who’s forced to lie back and think of England. 

So I think it’s high time that we, as parents, make a notarized pledge to try to minimize these awkward, my-kid’s-in-your-face–but-I’m-gonna-pretend-that-you-like-it kind of moments.

And you might be wondering, “But, Kate, where is this coming from? Have you been annoyed by the unwanted presence of a stranger’s child in recent days?” And the answer is, yes, yes I frickin’ have.

It all started on Monday, the first day of Suttie’s two-week long session of swim lessons. Two-weeks…everyday, people. That’s a lot of exposure to unfamiliar moms and kids. And it’s usually great. You meet people, you chat poolside, you see them 9 months later at a tball game, and you pretend that you remember each other’s names.  But every now and again, you have an encounter that makes you want to head for the car and invest in some adult-size floaties.

Cue, Jane. Jane is an adorable two-year-old little girl from a family of 5 children, 2 dogs, and 1 cat (as confirmed by their van’s stick figure census) whose mom thinks that all of her kids, especially the littlest ones, are sent straight from the most sanctified regions of Heaven.

I get it; I love my kids, too. I just know that, before they were blessed with the O’Neal moniker, they came from some divine nursery with “Probably Gonna Make it Back Here Some Day” and crossed fingers etched on the door (and Molly was only there as a legacy).

At this point, I should establish that babies are like crack to little girls; they cannot resist them and they’re willing to do time for it. Thus, Molly’s presence was too much for little Jane to ignore, and she was glued to us from day 1.

On that first day, she introduced herself and then immediately began emptying the Minnie Mouse backpack full of snacks and toys that I’d packed for my child. One after another, she ate the raisins, the yogurt melts, and the baby mum mum crackers, which wasn’t a huge deal – I made sure that Molly had enough to maintain her composure. But what really got me was when little Jane took a bite out of one of the crackers, and then, with lightning quick speed, stuck it, bite-end first, into Molly’s open mouth. Because that’s how I want to spend the next week of my life – waiting for my daughter to show symptoms of some puke-inducing, sleep-reducing virus.

Now, at this point, you might be thinking, “Kate, where the hell was Jane’s mom in all this?” Well, guys, sitting right the eff next to me, of course, contemplating the astonishing fact that Jane didn’t like baby mum mums as a child, but now she seemed to love them.  Well, lady, I’m glad that we could provide you with the opportunity to make that completely unnecessary and trivial revelation. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to remove the esophagus-sized cracker shard that your child just shoved into my daughter’s windpipe.

After she decimated our snack stash, Jane moved on to the toys and books that I’d so thoughtfully picked out…which would have been fine if she had wanted to sit quietly and play with them. But no, little Janie wanted me to read to her…and not just one book, but all of them. No, Jane, I don’t care to see my son swim during the lessons that I paid for. No, I don’t feel the need to make sure that his head is still above water. None of that is as important as discussing Elmo’s favorite colors with my daughter’s would-be murderer.

And this is when Jane’s mom said it: “Let me know if she’s bothering you.”

Okay, what the hell am I supposed to do with that, Jane’s mom? Tell you, “Now that you mention it, Jane’s kind of all up in my grill. If you could reel her in, that’d be great”? No, because that would be totally inappropriate…sort of like letting your child dig around in someone else’s bag uninvited.

So, as week 1 of swim draws to a close, we soldier on, bringing snacks for three instead of two and toys that don’t require any reading or adult interaction. I’ve also taken to putting makeup on Molly before the lessons so that maybe, just maybe, we can trick Jane into thinking that she’s not a baby at all, but a petite woman from the wrong side of the tracks looking to find inner peace and a new sense of purpose through aquatic sports. We’re still working on her back story…