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Archive for the ‘swing’ Category

Sandbox politics. 
Absurd, infuriating and guaranteed to create an inner monologue which will require every last ounce of strength to prevent the irretrievable journey from brain to mouth. 
Take, for example, the concept of toddlers sharing. 
Now to me, sharing is a pretty easy concept to get across to your wee ones; child has a few minutes with object A, then they are told that it is time to give object A to the waiting child. And if object A is snatched by your child from another child, then your child is briskly told it is unacceptable behavior and your personal intervention guarantees that object A will be returned to the hands from which it was grabbed. So imagine my horror when I saw a child at our local kiddie gym who belligerently refused to give up a turn on the one swing in the facility! Crimeny! Useless parent shocker! My horror was not for the child but for the feckless moron of a Mum who purported to be a positive influence over this grunting little horror of a brat she had no doubt carefully nurtured to be the rudest toddler in the world. The conversation went like this.
Feckless moron: “I don’t think X is very good at sharing.”
Me: “Errum, haha, no, it can be tough having to help them deal with it…”
Feckless moron (to toddler in a koombayah voice): “Now listen X, that’s really not very nice is it? Could you get off now and let her have a turn?”
Her toddler: “NO! NO! NO! MY GO MY GO MINNNEEE NURRRFFFFNNNNOOOO!”
My inner monolgue: “Jesus Fucking Christ woman, take the brat by the hand, pull him OFF the swing, sit him ON your lap and briskly explain what the fuck is wrong with his behaviour? I mean, how hard IS that?”
Feckless moron (a hair above koombayah voice): “X! I won’t tell you again, you really need to get off the swing honey, because (adopts lilting twerpish child voice) ‘udder childwen want to have a turn.’ “
Her toddler (sounding like a dirty great swamp-thing):
“NOOOOOOOOOAAAGGGGUUURRRGGHHHRRHRGGGGGHHHH!!!
My toddler: “I wanna go on the swing now Dada, please can I go on the swing now please?”
(IMPORTANT POINT; THIS IS NO EXAGGERATION.  OUR HOUSEHOLD PURSUIT OF THE WORDS ‘PLEASE’ AND ‘THANK YOU’ HAVE BEEN SEEMINGLY SOAKED UP BY OUR WEE ONE).
Me: “I know XX, I know, it’s just that this child’s Mom seems to be having DIFFICULTIES dealing with her boy, he might just be really cranky, I’m sure he’ll be off in a moment.”
My inner monologue: “I mean, why the fuck hasn’t this fucking inept fool stepped in and TAKEN CHARGE OF MATTERS, I mean, WHO’S THE FUCKING PARENT AND WHO’S THE FUCKING CHILD, HELLOOOOOOOOO, DOES YOUR RUG-RAT BEHAVE LIKE THIS ALL THE TIME? WHICH ONE OF YOU ASSHOLES DID HE LEARN IT FROM YOU ‘P.C.’ BULLSHITTER…”
I got a little concerned that my inner monolgue had done a runner out of my incredulous gob; thankfully it appeared not, as the feckless moron continued twittering away about how “difficult” it was to “handle” these situations whilst not moving so much as one inch of an ass-cheek towards the child.
My toddler was strangely quiet, as if even she could see the absurdity of it all.
And I threw one, last, waning grin at the feckless moron, realizing that the only hope I had was to quit before it got ugly.
And trust me folks, it’s getting pretty goddam ugly out there, especially for those of us who actually care about our work as parents…

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