In the dying months of 2009 we moved from a filthy, disgusting, douchebag-filled hip neighborhood to a residential ‘hood. Initially we felt like we’d resigned ourselves to living in the ‘burbs, which seems ludicrous now considering we’re a ten minute walk from the subway. We were skeptical of fringe-urban living, but you know what? We actually really like it.
For one, it’s quiet. For two there aren’t people pissing on our house, shitting on our lawn, or screaming until their voice is hoarse. For three, Oooh for three; it isn’t filled with self-absorbed fashionistas and too cool for school losers hipsters and think they own the place, neighborhood usurpers, gentrifying gen-Xers.
Like most couples, we started seeing kids everywhere when we found out we were having a baby. I should restate that: we started seeing parents with their kids everywhere. Inevitably this led to watching these parent/kid combos, and judging studying how they interacted.
There’s been a bit of a buzz about this blogging dad bringing his child to a bar. A post from Accidents Will Happen, encapsulates how I feel about this issue: “I have no tolerance for people who think children shouldn’t be allowed in public spaces. I also have no tolerance for parents whose expectations for others far outstrip common courtesy.”
As a regular Jer with no kiddies on the horizon, I was pretty annoyed when parents brought their kids to inappropriate places; as a parent-to-be it makes me downright angry. What the hell are these people thinking?
Last autumn, shortly after we found out my partner was el-prego, we ventured out for some eats at a little bar that does a bluegrass brunch on the weekends. It’s a totally cool place that has good bands and a great atmosphere, but not a place I’d even consider brining a kid to – even for brunch. It’s dirty and smells like last evening's regrets (i.e. like every other heavy drinking establishment).
We got there to find a large line of hung-over hipsters with the very same booze and stale smoke smell of regret on their breath. They were waiting for a seat. It seems a group of too cool for school parents had booked the place for a kid’s birthday party! I was am still furious. I wish I could go back in time to express what I felt at that moment: "No, it’s not cool for you and your other parent friends to take over a bar because you think it would be cool to have a kid’s party there. Grow up; your kid’s too young to be hip, so stop using your child as a new accessory."
Sadly, kids-as-accessory-parents are infesting our urban landscapes; folks with an uncompromising belief that it’s their right as a parent to bring kids wherever the hell they want. Now, I don’t think there’s a thing wrong with a well behaved kid at a pub in the middle of the day – the operative words here being well behaved and middle of the day. The minute that kid starts acting like a kid, rather than a very small and quiet adult, it’s time to leave. The minute the clock strikes evening, it’s time to go too. Pubs are adult places, so I figure they should have a higher behavioral standard than, say, Chuck E Cheese, or even a kid-friendly diner.
The real problem parents here are the ones who think that adult places and adult customers should accommodate their parenthood, and thus their children, in the slightest. Not only does this understanding of the universe create shitty self-entitled kids, but it pisses off the people who don’t have kids. It’s also a total bummer for those parents who responsibly paid for a sitter so they could have a night out alone.
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