Some parents suck.

A common fear that coincides with pregnancy is the fear that you won’t know how to parent or worse, that you will raise a demon child. Family and friends will assuage you and tell you that it comes naturally and that everything will be fine. And, as an optimist I totally agree. Parenting is not rocket science, and for the most part instincts carry you about 60% of the way, the other 40% is logic and practicality.

Today, I had the crappy opportunity of encountering a child whose parents should NOT have been told they would be fine. Maybe they lack any inherent nurturing abilities, perhaps they were sat in front of the microwave too long as children, or ate lead paint. Who knows. But the fact is, these parents should have been banned from ever spawning such a poorly behaved, aggressive, and insolent little bastard child.

Why, you ask, am I so fired up?

Said devil child chased after my dog, William Wallace style, trying to attack her as if  he would gain some worldly token had he succeeded. Fine, no big deal, a kid chasing a dog. No harm there. Aside from the danger that comes along with chasing a strangers dog, who may or may not be aggressive. Whatever.

After a failed attempt to “get” the dog. The gears in this four year old’s head quickly turn to, attack the next closest thing. This happens to be me and CK.

I turn around right as the little shit is saying “watch out, ICE” and hurls a huge chunk of ice and snow. Striking my angelic child in the head, and me in the arm.

At this moment my brain is telling me to punch this kid in the face, give him giant wedgie, and smash his face in dog poop. It was the only appropriate response I could muster up. (Damn my head for overshadowing my motherly instinct.) Being the parent of a child, I thought situations like this would make me  more understanding and prepared to handle something along these lines.  Unfortunately, my 18 months spent being a mom had me ill equipped to handle the exact child I never want my kid to become.

All I could think to say was “Hey, that was not nice. It’s not ok to throw snowballs at babies.” And storm slowly away glaring as the smoke angrily puffed out of every orifice on my head.

I walked away, hoping an apologetic parent would come bursting down to us proclaiming her sorrow for the actions of her child. Thus appeasing the situation and dampening the now blazing fire in my gut.

None such instance occurred. The actions of this child are instantly justified in the lack of parenting I witnessed in the moments after our happening. No one was supervising, no one was attentive, no one CARED. I truly feel bad for this kid. And even more terribly for the future teachers, and parents of his friends that will have to put up with him in the years to come.

Parents like this, suck. It is 100% your fault that your kid has chosen these actions. Take a few minutes to watch your child and care, and discipline them, so that I can spend my Friday afternoon relaxing instead of dealing with situations like this.

So now…

While I had planned on writing a letter to said parents, I am sitting here telling you all my first world stressors. The Hubs has decided its better if he deal with it in person by knocking up at their door and confronting them about the situation. ( I like to think my brilliant literary skills would have left a knot so deep in the gut of these people that it would manifest itself into an oblivion of good parenting from this day forward.)

Fine. He can have this battle. I call the next one.

Stay tuned folks…

Oh, and we can totally check the name Noah off of our list of names for a boy. Thanks kid.

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