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…
No comments:
Post a Comment