I was reminded, today, why I don't want children.

After my bike ride, yesterday, I stopped into Starbucks for an iced mocha. I sat outside, in the pleasant sunshine and gentle breeze.

A couple tables down were three generations of one family: grandmother and grandfather, father and mother, and two young boy children.

The grandfather reminded me very much of a tall Maury Ballstein from Zoolander, played by Jerry Stiller. He had the glasses and the same face. There was something extraordinarily creepy about him. His wife was a latino woman with a strong accent. She looked like she had been a homemaker her entire life.

Grandma and Grampa's son was so much like Rick Moranis' character Louis Tully, from Ghostbusters, it was scary. He had the same mewling voice and the lack of chin and spine. Like his dad, though, he was taller.

The wife was nothing like the others. If she had been in Ghostbusters she would have been Sigourney Weaver. Tough, no nonsense. I could see she was a harridan, a harpy, a shrew. She wore the pants in the family.

In addition to the baby, the Zoolander family had a 2-3 year old. Hunter. Hunter had a stupendous blond mullet. Hunter was wearing a blue, camouflage pattern apron for reasons I am unable to fathom. Hunter had his parents completely trained. Hunter was definitely in the midst of his "terrible twos".

Hunter had a serious bee in his bonnet and was running away from his family as fast as his little legs would carry him, constantly chased by his spineless, whiney father. "Hunter! Come back, Hunter! Hunter, 1... 2... 3...! Hunter, not toward the street!" Hunter plucked flowers off the landscaping. Hunter pulled newspapers out of the free bin and gave them to his grandparents. His father continued to chase him and every time he got close Hunter would dash away, like a dog with a toy. A tremendous game. As he dodged and ducked he would shout, "No, daddy!"

The wife watched her husband as he fruitlessly chased their son. She had a disapproving frown on her face and I could read her mind. "I married this chinless bastard." she thought. "This is what I have to look forward to for the rest of my life." It was clear she wanted her husband to grow a pair. A pair like hers.

For a moment, for just an instant, an instant quickly quashed, mind you, I envisioned Hunter running out into the street and then riding the grill of a passing Jeep Cherokee. A mulleted aproned hood ornament. I was ashamed that it gave me peace.
  • Current Mood: adopted
  • Current Music: 95.7 Max, San Francisco
There was a group of children at work on Saturday afternoon whose parents apparently had signed off on custody and essentially gave them over to the staff and management while they sat in a corner booth drinking iced teas, totally oblivious of their offspring. (longest sentence in history, that one) Not until one of them screamed loud enough to break sound barriers while visibly bleeding from the face, did they acknowledge they were parents. Even then, only the wounded one got taken back into the fold.

I secretly wished they'd all fall on their faces and bleed.

I should probably have my motherhood status revoked. At any rate, don't be ashamed. We're ALL thinking it.