I hate that kid

It’s confession time.

Sometimes….. I don’t like your kid.

It’s weird, this dislike I find myself having. I think sometimes these kids I find myself despising might not seem so bad if I didn’t have kids of my own…. but since I do have kids of my own, other kids have-on occasion-become the enemy.

I’m not proud of it. But I also don’t see myself improving until my kids start having the guts to be the aggressive ones on the playground or at the toy table in the coffee shop.  Because that’s how it starts…my inner kid-hate…when I see my innocent little angel looking confused as they are fleeced of domino’s by some little 3 year old bimbo who doesn’t understand the concept of sharing.

That’s what happened the other morning. I had just dropped Sammy off at his new preschool, so I may have already been a little unstable emotionally. I met my bestie at a little coffee place that had a cute little section for kids with some puzzles, books, and other toys. Jenna thought it was great.

gb5

See?!  Look how innocent she is!! So trusting!

So all is going well, until these other moms come close with their own little girls who head right over to the table with Jenna. Now, these girls were a bit older, you could see it in the hardness of their eyes as they looked Jenna up and down, sizing up the competition. They knew an easy mark….. so first the curly haired one moves a globe away from Jenna, so she can’t spin it anymore…. all the while glancing between me and my baby, to see what I would do. I tried the death stare….nothing. These kids were tough. Now, the key is to give a look to that kid that says “step away from my baby before someone gets hurt”…. but at the same time appearing cool and unconcerned to the mom who may or may not be glancing over at the table, waiting for YOUR little one to start something with THEIR baby. *snort*, As IF!

Then Jenna starts playing with the domino’s. There is a whole container of the things, and she’s got a few in hand. Of course, evil kid number 2 decides there are NO other good domino’s to be had…..other than the ones my sweet angel is holding. She creeps closer to my unsuspecting daughter, like a tiger stalking her prey…. watching me out of the corner of her eye, but Oh so boldly continuing on. Her hand comes out, takes one from Jenna. I look at the other moms, Oh, Of COURSE they are not paying attention to the future criminal over here… too engrossed in their own conversation. Now it’s on. Obviously, she’s got no soul. She must be stopped. She takes another one. My GOD…. I can’t take it anymore. For the love of all things holy, I must save my daughter!

“No-No” (in a sing-song voice), don’t take them from her, look, take them from this box!”

So, I sounded sweet. But SHE knew, and I knew what I was REALLY saying. “Do it again. And no one can save you…”

Then I played with them at the table. Just marking my territory…….

Crisis averted. I had rescued my little one. My innocent Jenna-Bean, full of goodness and light. Protected her from the harsh world a little longer…. kept her away from the predators.

Feeling pretty good about myself.

Turn my back for 30 SECONDS.

Glance back at my daughter. My innocent, sweet, perfect example of all that is right with the world.

What?! Is she….. Oh….oh no…..

Curly hair got a cracker from her mom. Jenna honed in like a retriever. Stalked her around the table. I glanced over as she swooped in, and NABBED it. Oh, thank god…it dropped…. Grab it Curly, Grab it and get away! She did, Whew…… made it….

And I watch Jen.  Sharing a stare with Curly’s mom. Licking crumbs off her finger. Pretty sure she’s saying “next time lady…. just wait”…..

So….. we moms shared a laugh.

Mutually despising each others children, and somehow bonding at the same time.

Advertisement

One thought on “I hate that kid

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s