Kids Are Jerks
Kids Are Jerks
I was in Target the other day on a quick run to get soda and juice. Now, we all know there is no such thing as a "quick run" into Target for obvious reasons that include Target is frickin' awesome. But, in my defense, Target stores are the size of football fields. So, literally, there is no "quick run" into Target.
Lola, my three and a half year old sassy pants was with me and she insisted on walking. Usually this is a terrible idea because it results in her running everywhere, impromptu games of hide and go seek, and her dodging giant shopping carts that can't see her. But since we were on this so called "quick run" into Target I stupidly agreed to her walking plan.
We rush into Target and she's skipping ahead of me, which is fine because I needed her to go fast. We hike back to the beverages section where I collect two two-liter bottles of soda and a 64 oz. bottle of apple juice. We're ready to head back.
We're moving. I've got a total of four liters of soda in one arm and 64 oz. of juice in the other. My voice alone is trying to contain Lola. Even typing that sentence is ridiculous. She's moving, skipping, running. If you're a mom of a toddler you know that running equals falling equals screaming bloody murder in a nice, quiet, expertly lit Target. So I'm urging Lola not to run. She can't even contain herself. That open, bright, clean space. How could she not run?! It was a terrible idea not to get a cart!
I'm getting loud. "Lola! No running! I don't want you to fall. Lola, no running. Lola, no running." Just repeat that in your head another fifteen times.
But she can't contain herself. I can see her trying to make herself walk but after about two steps she's running again as if her little body didn't understand reason or English!
I'm yelling now. "Lola! Stop running!"
As she's running she whips her head around and yells back, "I don't want you to speak to me! Don't speak to me!"
Sometimes the things that kids say are so holy inappropriate and disrespectfully cute, that I want to laugh out loud. And, I, with my arms full of soda and juice, have to stifle my laugh and my embarrassment enough to get her to slow the frick down!
I know what you're thinking. That's what I get for buying soda.
I laugh and whisper at the same time, "Don't say that to me and slow down."
As we round the corner to the check out line I see another kid. He's maybe a year or two older than Lola. He's pulling all of the doggy toys off of the end cap and throwing them into the middle isle of the store. His mom is telling him to pick them up and pleading with him to behave. I later ended up in the same line with her. There she was. Head in hands. Probably with a headache. I didn't judge her. I judged the kid. And I came to the conclusion...
Kids are jerks.
Okay, before anyone gets all sanctimommy on me, of course I would never call any of my kids a jerk. Not to their face, at least. I'm not calling your kid a jerk. And I know that parents are jerks, too. I'm sure I've probably been guilty. I was probably a jerk for allowing her to walk in the first place or for buying soda. But can we just talk about the kids who are jerks right now? It's just this age! This testy little age where they prove to you that you don't really know anything at all. It's forty-seven disagreements a day. It's soap suds on the walls, Sharpie on the TV screen, and "Don't touch me!" in front of an entire checkout line.
Now here's my disclaimer. If I could have asked God to send me the perfect little girl to be my daughter, Lola is it. She is the greatest joy and she is the light at the end of what was a hard and dark tunnel. She is sweet and loving and sugar and spice and everything nice. She really is. I look forward to waking up to her little face every morning and she makes me laugh every day. Especially yesterday when she couldn't pronounce cockroaches so she decided to call them coscos and when her dad tried to correct her she told him with her hands up, "That doesn't make any sense!"