Ever been somewhere and the kids in the landscape of a restaurant, on vacation flying or shopping, at the playground get “animated”.
Kids act like kids. Because well, they are for a short time. But all that changes with three meals a day, lots of rest, exercise. They grow up. Have their own air dropped by a passing stork.
Adults can act like kids in good and bad ways.
Ever seen one that behaved, sounded like a two year old? Who is at fault if blame is needed when a kid is out of line in a public setting? Or when the adult who reacts to them is not so kid friendly. Never had a few of their own. Drop dead, all she wrote missing even a drop of patience.
Marcy’s Diner on Oak Street in Portland Maine is in the news.
Awareness of how a child’s behavior is affecting your meal, other patrons and the staff. And how long, what take for steps, what is appropriate?
If a kid explodes, does not get what they want and you are shopping.
My secretary said she told the grocery store manager hold the cart. I’ll be back. Left the store. No hanging around hoping for improvement. Have a little parenting outside Piggly Wiggly the establishment to do.
Once the kid’s attitude is stretched back into shape, the younger, close to five year old child wanted to go back. Promised not to do it again. Not that day though.
But days later when revisiting the place with the wire carts and one squeaky wheel, junior was there. But better behaved and knowing the rules. Quiet and reserved and all eyes and ears. The lesson was a success. Did not need a repeat procedure because no more melt down. No one headed to the correctional center.
In school, the discipline is metered out differently if at all.
Threats of lawsuits, the kid becoming the parent and changing places in the authority chain of command. Going to the head of the class in a not so healthy way. Many parents right beside them in the don’t take any grief or responsibility for anything John or Jane. Other people screw up, not you center of the universe “son”/
I was screwing on a SOLD panel on a Maine real estate sign near one local high school. And noticed a long line of cars at the end of the day in line like taxis. It was early fall. Leaves dropping to the ground and the second bloom explosion of color underway.
And one child verbally using their recess voice chastising the mother startled me. Mom who apologized profusely for being a few minutes late. The boy who could use a little physical exercise with a healthy girth continued to whale on the mother until they drove off. To home that was only three blocks away. A walk would have done the lad wonders all the way around.
In a heated exchange the Mom told junior she had skipped her lunch half hour, could not get away due to an emergency at work at a job she really needed.
It all went on deaf ears. None of it deterred Jimmy’s demeanor and distaste for her tardiness behind the mini van wheel. Where were you whined in the questioning looking over the hood of the ride.
The verbal lashing at the public whipping post continued and was hard to observe.
Other kids looked surprised that you could do that to a parent and not suffer immediate consequences. I could not help but think does Dad treat Mom the same way? Because on most of the Nanny 911 episodes, that is the common theme of why the household is going sideways.
My Mom’s “you wait until your father gets home” did the trick.
Plus I knew oh oh. I have disappointed my parents. That is what hurt, smarted the most. Knowing a nuclear weapon must have been deployed as a youngster because just a reminder look, was all it took. There was a limit, no room for more debate telegraphed in that sharp as tack glare.
Somewhere back there near the beginning of walking, a kite on the keester was administered.
Then did not have to be again. Given not out of enjoyment or sick pleasure but just to remind it was enough. End of debate.Tough love.
I knew I was not head of the household and felt secure in that with limits, rules, family traditions and acceptable behavior clearly understood. By me and the three older brothers who towed the same line.
No hollering, high emotion, no broken furniture or household items made during the debate.
There was not and respect never left the room as silence entered it during the “corrections phase”. It was all chalked up under the heading parenting, tough love. Raising kids in Maine, we had work to do and did not waste time on tug of wars in who runs the show. Or who is for the record unhappy, or that is not fair. We had more important tasks to attend.
The parent saying your full name. Giving you to the count of three. Or reminding I’ll give you something to cry about. Meaning you are over doing the drama and carrying on and it is not working. Time for bed. For the whole household according to the clock on the wall.
Ever been on a plane flying to somewhere that did not require first hand knowledge, experience with a snow shovel? And have the occasional frequent flyer mutter “I wish they would shut that kid up”. When an infant, new born adjusting to the change in air pressure in the plane cabin is not doing so well.
It is easy to want that guy or gal in 32C to shut the pie hole.
The sound of the child is not irritating and you have a shift to feeling badly for the young flyer, his parents. And wondering what can I do to help. Because we have all been there, done that and take it in stride without throwing a stone.
Would like to hear from the other 75 diners in the Marcy’s Diner incident. Then draw a conclusion as to what just happened and went viral. Before the media, the lawyering up got to it and added the spin or whatever was lost in translation. At the place where half hour waits happen now because of the hubbub during a slow news day.
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