Rant: Your Brat, My Problem


by Lillian Csernica on May 22, 2013

27408-blogeverday

Day 22: Rant about something. Get up on your soapbox and tell us how you really feel. (a pet peeve, a current event, a controversial topic, something your husband or roommate or neighbor or boss does that really ticks you off)

This rant goes out to all those parents who feel no need to instill any kind of boundaries, limitations, discipline, manners, or common courtesy in their obnoxious offspring.

People, let’s get this straight.  If you do not discipline your children the other six days of the week, they are not going to be little angels in church on Sunday.  I am not speaking in a metaphorical sense.  When I go to church, I’m there to worship God, find spiritual comfort, and come away with a refreshed sense of peace.  This does not really happen when I have to listen to a tyrannical kindergartener fuss and whine and carry on because he or she is being told, “No,” a word the child does not seem to recognize or understand, much less obey.

When I’m out shopping, I don’t want to have to worry about your obnoxious little brats racing through the clothing racks playing hide and seek and putting themselves in the path of my shopping cart.  I will confess that there have been a few occasions when I was sorely tempted to move those few inches forward or back in order to have the little monsters bounce right off my cart.  That would not be a mature, responsible approach, to say nothing of how it would lead to the kind of screaming and bawling that make me want to go Godzilla on everything and everyone around me.  It’s a safe bet that the galloping little hooligans are going to trip over something or run into something sooner or later, which will result in said hellish racket as they make it clear to everyone in a five mile radius that they have been cruelly abused and now deserve every possible treat they can think of to shut them up.

You know who you are.  You know who I am, too.  You’ve seen me giving you that tight-lipped, impatient stare as you cost me time and effort by making me wait for the chaos to settle down so normal business can continue.

For those of you who try to throw the “You just don’t understand” excuse at me, let me tell you this.  I would have given my left arm to have my son Michael be capable of such running around and speaking clearly and making demands at that age.  As for my son John, when he was in kindergarten, he was what people in autism circles refer to as a “runner.”  We had to keep changing the locks on the front door so it would take him at least two weeks to figure them out and get outside when we weren’t looking/were busy with Michael.  One day John got out and went running up the front steps to street level.  I went rushing after him, came down wrong on my right foot, and tore my right calf muscle.  Do you know what that feels like?  It feels like somebody unzipped the back of my leg, stuffed it full of hot marbles, then zipped it back up again.  AND I STILL HAD TO GO CATCH JOHN.

Discipline your children.  Teach them to be quiet, considerate, respectful, and polite.  If you can’t manage that, then either stay home or have someone take care of your kids while you’re out in the kind of environments where rabid, bossy, careless, and selfish little kids are a nightmare for everyone concerned.

Godzilla star

Godzilla star (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

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2 Comments

Filed under Blog challenges, Family, Humor, Special needs

2 responses to “Rant: Your Brat, My Problem

  1. “tore my right calf muscle. Do you know what that feels like? It feels like somebody unzipped the back of my leg, stuffed it full of hot marbles, then zipped it back up again.” << CRINGE!!!!!!

    Like

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