Wednesday, November 3, 2010

Good with Children, Not by Choice

This is difficult to write without coming off as a bastard so I'll just be honest.  I don't like kids.  However, I have friends with kids, and I'm sure I'd like their kids just fine.  I think it's a little different when you're in the company of someone's children whom you know and respect than when you're in the company of a strangers' children.  I've heard wonderful stories about my friends kids.  That having been said, I pretty much hate all other kids.  Some people get all googly eyed when they see children in public, not this guy.  I think, 'ugh, stop breeding' (note: especially prevalent thoughts upon witnessing large families).  I hate kids in public.

I was in Tops the other day helping my mom shop.  And by helping, I mean I was having fun dicking around with the cart in the aisles.  Now I was having my fun, but I know enough to not go zooming around corners lest I accidentally cart-check some poor old lady into the meat shelves.  I was coming out of one such aisle, and there this little bastard dancing in front of me while his family stood around not telling him to get the hell out of my way.  So I ran him over.  Not really, I just waited for him to move.  I also later found out that the family near him wasn't his.  Which kind of made sense because...oh how to put this with my trademark indelicacy...he was a little too brown for that particular bunch of crackas.  (He was Arabic if you must know.)  Power to him though, I certainly wouldn't tempt the fates by dancing in front of a surly man with a large wheeled metal object.

Probably my least favorite thing to see is those families that have kid-parents.  You know the ones I'm talking about, the ones where they have six children ages 16, 14, 11, 8, 4, and 2...and the oldest three are each raising one of the youngest three because the mom is too busy stitching her vagina back together and the dad is too busy buying circus mirrors so she looks like she did 20 pounds per kid ago.  If you have so many kids that your kids are raising your other kids...(oh Mr. Foxworthy.....)...you might be a redneck.  They have these little sleeves that go on your penis called condoms now.  Or as the internet finely puts it:


I have always been good with children.  I was beloved as a Camp Counselor when I was in high school, I was revered as a Little League coach and respected as an umpire.  Therefore I have no problem interacting with children.  That having been said, kids do produce some wonderful moments, even if they're not your little hellspawn.

Wonderful Moment



I was at my Uncle's house in North Tonawanda about a year and a half ago for his fourth of July party and I was doing a pretty good job of drinking beer.  Unfortunately my strange appeal to little people began to take hold at an inopportune moment.  A little four year old girl, I believe a niece of my cousin's girlfriend was absolutely taken with me.  She wanted me to play catch.  With these things.
 
 Now, I wasn't completely wasted, but I was drunk enough so that standing up didn't seem like a terribly good prospect.  Still, the lass was relentless, and finally I put my beer down and stumbled into the yard.  I may have ruined her special moment of "playing catch with the big kid," because at that time my motor skills and hers were more equal than I'd like to admit.  She'd wing the ball at me and I'd try to keep it from destroying my face.  And then I'd have to resist the temptation to pull out my sick jai alai moves and toss it gently back to her.  She had fun though, and soon enough I was back to my beer.

Now before you start thinking of me as a kind and gentle person (and I totally am...if you're a petite chick with short black hair), I have a final story to share.  I was at HSBC Arena with my sister, and I believe it was a game the Sabres won, which means it was probably the Bruins game on 4-11-2009.  (Hey Liz's birthday...on the off chance you actually read this, tell me it's creepy I still remember that!)  Anyways, we were between periods, and some little bastard behind me was kicking the back of my seat.  I'm pretty calm, so I just pulled out my phone and started playing tetris.  My darling sister notices what is happening and asked, "does that keep you from beating the shit out of him?"  I nodded.  IMMEDIATELY the kicking stopped.  Awesome.

So yeah I don;t really have a way to end this.  I guess the moral of the story is, if you want to have success with children, be drunk or threaten physical violence.

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