Category Archives: brats

I Hate Kids, Part 378

Okay, so I am not waiting tables because I am busy being a full time actor and shit, but I have spent a lot of time eating at restaurants and sitting on the other side of the menu. I took myself to breakfast this morning because I couldn’t bear to start my day with another bowl of Cheerios and banana with a yogurt chaser. I found a quaint little diner that was going to satisfy my craving for eggs and toast. Yes, I could make these myself, but I wanted them to be cooked by someone else and then served by a waiter. All was well. I placed my order and sat in anticipation. And then it happened. A couple came in with their two adorable little girls and when I say “adorable,” I mean “bratty spoiled crybabies who couldn’t shut the fuck up.”

The younger of the girls was named Megan and I know that because I heard her name about hundred and fifty fucking times within a ten minute period. She wanted bacon and french fries for breakfast and her parents drew the line on that request. However, they told her if she would eat eggs for breakfast then they would take her to get a cupcake afterwards. Seriously? “No” to the french fries but yes to the cupcake? What the fuck point is that? I say if you’re on vacation let her have french fries for breakfast and then ask her to eat some fruit too. The dad was full of empty threats. As a non-parent (praise be to Jesus that my seed has not been sowed), it seems clear that threatening something with no intention to follow through on the threat means nothing to the child. When Megan wouldn’t sit in the chair, the dad told her that they were going to end the vacation and go back home right then. Now we know that is not going to happen. And so did the girl. She was probably thinking, “Oh Daddy, I know you already put down a non-refundable deposit on our room and have already requested these days off from work so shut the hell up.” And then a few minutes later when Megan threw her sunglasses on the floor and wouldn’t pick them up, he told her if she didn’t pick them up, he was going to throw them away. And what did Megan think? “Oh, Daddy, you aren’t going tot throw away these perfectly good sunglasses away after you just spent $10 on them. That would be silly, you dumb fuck of a daddy.” And when he threatened to make her sit on the corner, she actually said, “Oh, what corner?” He was clearly setting his daughter up for a future in prostitution.

Eventually he began treating the girl like a dog by yelling commands at her. “Megan, sit. Megan, stay.” Megan did none of these things. My dog is better behaved than this little girl. At one point, I looked over at the father and he had his head in his hands. The look in his eyes was one of sadness and desperation. It was as if he couldn’t believe that he only gets one vacation a year and here he was stuck on his vacation with his family. I almost felt sorry for him for a second. And then my omlette showed up. As I took my first bite of home fries I heard the father pleading one more thing from his daughter. “Megan, get your mouth off the chair.”

Kids. I hate ’em.

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