I know I've been on a rant about kids lately ... but just one last one .....
Shopping for one sucks. I head over to my local grocery store (actually one about 10 minutes away; the one nearest to me is a little limited in its selection) and realized just how single I am. I go through the store and I have my little routine like anyone else ... first grab bread, then lunch meat, then frozen foods, chips, cereal, meat/chicken, the International Food aisle, etc.. So as I go through the lanes, it's funny how couples and families permeate the grocery store. I made the mistake of hitting the grocery store before 9 P.M.; that hallowed hour when families are home and tucked into bed.
So naturally, every lane is packed to the gills with mini-van mom and her brood. They clog up the checkout lanes. Kids are wriggling in and out of the lane like some sort of rickets infected plague of locusts. Dad is probably one of those assholes who park directly in front of the store with the car running instead of parking in a spot like the rest of civilized society. Hungry-Hungry Hippo housewife just talks to her kids telling them to behave. She is telling them things like "Get over here now young man" or "Tell me why you feel the need to act up in public".
Screw that!! What happened to the good ole' days when a mother would spank a disruptive child? Or as my younger brother and I say, "beat" that child. No, I don't advocate punching or abusing children. But damn, I was a shithead growing up. I needed to get my ass spanked now and then. And you know what? It worked. Nothing like the threat of my old man (who looks like a Hispanic version of Hank Hill) to get my ass to walk the straight and narrow.
See, my mom never hit us in public. I think maybe its the whole Mexican thing where you feel like security is going to follow you in the store, so you'd better not fuck up. But while she never hit us, my mom definitely had an impact. She would pinch the skin on the back of your arm (your tricep) and pull you in close. She'd give her threat between clenched teeth, tell us to behave or we'd get it worse when we got home. Or heaven forbid if I acted up in a department store. Dressing rooms should just be called Mexican solitary confinement because mom knew there were no store cameras in there. She wasn't shoplifting, but she would take you in there, whack your ass a couple of times, tell you to go sit down, and keep your mouth shut.
(Sigh) I guess I'm getting all nostalgic. Trust me, if I ever have kids, it will be "Yes Sir" and "No Ma'am". No running up and down the aisles. No acting up in public. And that, my friends, is a promise.