Parental Fireworks

We went to the city's 4th of the July celebration. Of course the kids are too little for most of the fair rides, which is fine with us, anyway. So we hung out (again) in the kid's area, which is full of church booths and free bounce houses, obstacles courses, slides, etc.

Part of the joy of being in this section is that it's packed full of little kids. Little kids are not yet fully-developed creatures, and they are often bumbling, accidental, rude, inconsiderate or immodest. Most of them need to practice the finer points of civility, such as lack of unwanted physical contact, waiting for one's own turn, etc.

Today it seemed that everyone needed to practice How To Stand In A Line. My kids tend to be inattentive, and they allow more aggressive kids to push in ahead of them even when they are paying attention.

Things got mildly ugly at the bounce house.

Many kids, long line. Many parents to the side of line, coaching Junior that no, he cannot run up to the front of the line simply because he's wired on cotton candy and REALLY wants to go next. Attendant asks which kids in the line are together...he needs six. Four in front are friends. A couple of singletons. My two. And then the little Blonde Terror behind them. The terror is about five or six years old. He sports a classic buzz-cut, a red Cardinals shirt, and the swaggering smirk of a bully.

The Terror is desperate to go next, and will do whatever it takes. He immediately raises his hand and claims that the four in the front are all his friends, his very bestest buddies, and he should therefore skip from 10th place in line to first. The four in front look at each other in confusion. Who is this jerk? they wonder. Terror is denied. The front six are counted out. This leaves us with Terror and my kids being in the next group to go, plus one in front and two more behind them.

Terror is dissatisfied with the status quo, and apparently doesn't possess the mental acuity to figure out that he, indeed, is going in the next group. He removes himself from the line in order to harass the bounce house attendant, again telling him that he SHOULD be in that bounce house NOW, because those kids were all his friends. Can he go in? He's denied again. So he comes back to the line and promptly cuts in ahead of David and Lauren. Now Terror is second in line, and rather pleased with himself. Grandpa (?) is standing nearby and does absolutely nothing. Terror is precious. Terror is his. Terror is allowed whatever Terror can get.

I can't simply stand there. This tells both my kids that you should allow the Terrors of the world to get their way. If you have been wronged, that's OK. Just stand and take it, for the sake of never making waves. This trains them to be the victims of bullies.

Well, if you won't parent your kid, I will. Stand aside.

I grab David by the arm. I speak loudly. "Now see, you've let this kid here get in front of you. That's not right, because he's cutting in line. Go ahead and get in front of him, that's where you were before." The kids shuffle, and Terror looks neither surprised nor guilty. I address Terror next. "And you need to follow the rules and not get in front of people." Terror grins. It's the smart-alecky, "What're YOU gonna do about it? Watch me do it again!" sort of look which I've become accustomed to from the kid across the street. (You know...the one I have literally lifted off the ground by the lapels and busted several times for lying and damaging property. The one who hates and yet grudgingly respects me.) Oh. You're one of those. "Don't grin at me. Don't give me that look." Terror is surprised and doesn't know what what to do. The grin disappears and the eyebrows go up. "I've tangled with kids a lot older than you, and you need to behave yourself or trust me...you and I are going to have words." Terror glances sideways, mentally reviewing his options. He decides to stand in line quietly and watch the other kids in the bounce house.

Which is when Grandpa steps in.

"Now he just went up there to talk to him," he says, gesturing at the Attendant. "And he came and got back in line here. So don't you be getting on his case, or you and I are going to have words."

"That's fair," I said, looking Grandpa in the eye. "I'll have words with you. But you need to teach him to get back in line where he was and not get in front of others." (Let's not mention WHY he was getting out of line in the first place...to lie and try to swindle to get his own way. Are you blind, old man? Or don't you give a shit?)

"He was coming back here and stood by me, that's all," says Grandpa, getting more irritated still. "He wasn't--he didn't--" he flaps his hand at the line of kids.

"So you're saying that he was gauging his place in line in relation to you, versus in relation to the line of kids?"

Yup, Grandpa reckoned this was so. I wondered if we should debate the shade of the rose-colored glasses that Grandpa must be viewing Terror with. Or whether or not Terror was old enough to figure out his own surroundings. Or if Terror should be taught to do so. Or if Terror's past behaviors really warranted giving him the benefit of the doubt. Grandpa didn't seem to think there was anything wrong...he'll be in for a rude awakening in several years. The police aren't going to take his word for it. They won't view Terror as the cute little thing that Grandpa does, they won't mind taking witness statement and locking Terror up. Grandpa is failing himself, and society, and especially little Terror. It's now, when kids are very young, that you lay the foundations for acceptable behavior. So far, Terror seems to have no trouble with lying, deception or cheating. In ten more years that will translate into lying, tricking and cheating, especially in school. Ten more years after that it will be called perjury, collusion and embezzlement.

While the actual event is a tiny and really insignificant thing, it shows a pattern of thinking on the part of the kid. It shows how he's learning to get through the world; apparently at the cost of others.

But Grandpa wants to protect him. After all, he was just excited. It was just a special event. Isn't he cute? And what does it matter where he gets back in line? The same kids would get in on the next turn, so what? Jeeze, Lady, lighten up and leave my kiddo alone. I'm here. It's not like he killed anybody. (Ever notice that's the hew and cry of people who get in trouble with the police and think they're being unfairly singled out? "OK, so I sort of borrowed a car and accidentally ran it into a telephone pole. But it's not like I killed anybody!")

I raised an eyebrow at Grandpa, who didn't react.

Stalemate.

I shook my head and looked forward again. Doug came around shortly after that, and contact with Grandpa wasn't made again.

I watched all the kids very carefully while they were in the bounce house, and Terror, by and large, seemed to behave himself. (I was looking for shoving and hitting, specifically.) I thought about pulling the kid aside after his turn was up and telling him that I'd watched him, and he'd behaved very well, good job, etc. The Attendant tried to usher the kids out, and Terror then started begging and pleading..."But I never got a chance to shoot a basket," he said, (lie!) holding a Nerf ball. All the kids stop, waiting and watching to see what will happen. The Attendant is reluctant, but says, "Ok, take a last shot, but then it's time to get out." Terror grins widely and then proceeds to throw the ball as high and as long as he possibly can, out of the top of the bounce house and towards one of the church booths. He laughs, obviously pleased with himself.