Just call me Miss. Anthropy.

Sometimes I worry that I am slowly inching over the line that separates 'mildly annoyed by people' from 'out and out misanthropist'. I find myself becoming more and more irritated by people in general and those who patronize my local CVS store in particular, almost to the point where I am sure that the other shoppers can hear the grinding of my teeth as I try to prevent myself from going nuclear.

The closest Ralph's grocery store is 1.17 miles away from my house and the closest CVS store is 0.69 miles... so bearing in mind that I am inherently lazy and absolutely abhor grocery shopping, guess which one I pick 9 times out of 10?

Over the last two weeks, I have experienced some truly obnoxious individuals who have made me want to separate myself from the outside world and get my groceries delivered in case I viciously inadvertently maim someone with a can of Campbell's Chunky Chicken Soup.
Over the next few posts, I will be describing these paragons of aggravation, so follow me, if you will, into the Land of the Unbearable CVS Shoppers.

The Screaming Child.
Those of you who have been following me for a while know that I am not a huge fan of kids, and particularly don't like the ones who make a lot of noise. I believe that there is a viable market out there for child-sized ball-gags, but that might just be me.
Last week, I was standing in the seemingly endless line for the cashier when an unholy noise slammed into my consciousness. Startled, I looked around to try and find the source when I spotted a small ululating child lying in the middle of one of the aisles... and it looked like it was having a seizure. Concerned, I looked around for its owner, wondering whether I should go over there and check on it. As I was about to put my basket down and leg it over there (to do what, I'm not exactly sure), the wailing started to take word form... "EEEEEeeeeOOOOOOOooaAAAAAAAAaaaIIIIiiiiiiiiiIIII WANT AN ICE CREAM!!!"

Holy shit!

As my eardrums started vibrating, I looked around wildly for a parent-type person (though I couldn't imagine how anyone would want to lay claim to such a thrashing little monster). From the corner of my eye, I saw someone approaching the child. Calmly. A little too calmly (I was thinking 'Xanax. Lots and lots of Xanax'). "No honey, you don't need an ice cream", soothed the woman. "No," I thought, "What the kid needs is a straight-jacket." "BUT I WANNA...!!!" Howled the brat. "No honey," repeated the woman (and at this point, I figured it must be Xanax with a Vicodin chaser), "You don't need an ice cream."

The child fixed its eyes on its mother and slowly and very deliberately sucked in a breath, obviously with an intention of releasing the kind of scream that would put a horror movie actress out of a job. As I dropped my basket and prepared to clamp my hands over my ears to prevent brain-death (and fought the urge to instruct everybody to 'assume the crash position') I heard the mother say, "Ok honey. You can have an ice cream."
What?!
Way to negatively reinforce the kid. Guess what it's going to do next time it wants something and you say no? And the Parenting Award goes to....

As I drove home (ears still ringing), I idly imagined what would have happened if I had behaved like that when I was little, and had to suppress a whole-body shudder. The hand print on my arse would have shown up on my grandchildren's grandchildren's arses.
I'm not saying that my parents were into corporal punishment at all - they were not - in fact, I can't remember my parent's ever smacking me on the backs of the legs, but I'm sure it must have happened at some point. I'm also not saying that I condone it, but I was raised in a time when you could still smack your kids without having the cops called on you for child abuse.

When I was small, the only thing needed to keep me in line was my father's presence - all it took was one look from him that said, "I'm disappointed in you," and it felt like a stab to my little heart. I was Daddy's Little Girl (and still am), and I hated disappointing him in any way. The result of this was that I behaved myself. 
My brother was another story...

My brother was a 'hyperactive' child of the 80s (if he had been born five years ago, the doctors would have had him so stuffed full of Ritalin by now that he would have rattled. Way to go 21st Century - if in doubt, drug your kids). He wasn't allowed anything with artificial preservatives or sugar in it because the ingestion of either of those would cause him to bounce off the walls like Speedy Gonzales on crack. As a result of this, he was a bit of a handful...

... but my father figured out a way to calm him down...
One evening, we had gone out for a family dinner, and my brother was in Tazmanian Devil mode. He got his hands on anything that could be squeezed, spilled, thrown, or shook (despite these things having been moved out of his reach - he was a regular Houdini), and decimated a 10 foot radius around us. Finally losing his temper, my father dragged him off to the bathroom for a 'chat'. When they returned, my brother was incredibly subdued and remained so for the rest of the meal.
From that day on, if we were in public and my brother began acting up, all my father had to say to him was, "Do you want to go to the bathroom, Tom?" Invariably, my brother would settle down instantly. "No, Dad." "Are you sure?" "Yes, Dad."
And that would be the end of it.

Nowadays, it seems that reasoning with your child (or giving it a light slap round the back of the head) is unnecessary - just give the child whatever it wants... and reap the benefits of having an entitled adolescent. I'm sure that will be glorious.

UPDATE: I just want to reassure those of you who are about to start bashing out an indignant response to my post that this is just a 'bit'. I don't hate all children - I'm just not good with them - and I have no idea what kind of pressures today's parent experiences (especially single parents), so I'm not bashing them either.

Heaven knows there are days when I come home from work and the last thing I want to do is deal with my dogs, but I do, because I love them. It's not the same, but you get my drift.

This blog is purely for my (and I hope your) entertainment purposes only. It is a 'cynical' blog, and not to be read for edification...