Diner owner screams at crying toddler – Thoughts from a non-parent

image credit: The Oatmeal

This article from The Huffington Post was just one of many written about a fascinating incident that took place last month in the state of Oregon:

1. 1 diner, 2 parents, 1 child, and 1 short-tempered diner-owner converge on a busy Saturday morning
2. Parents order what the owner-operator considers too large a meal for the toddler in question
3. Meal takes a while to prepare, and eventually the child starts to cry. Presumably out of hunger, but I’m betting on not enough coffee after a long night of heavy drinking
4. Hung-over baby cries for quite a while
5. Diner-owner gets upset. She loudly insinuates to the parents they should leave. They don’t
6. Diner-owner slams her hands on the family’s table and yells at the kid to shut up
7. Social media war ensues

Now, let me make this clear: I do not have children, I don’t want any, and I don’t particularly like them. However, I can see both sides of this issue. The $10 question is, should we ever yell at a child, especially one that does not belong to us?

I usually get pret-ty annoyed when there is a noisy tiny human anywhere near me, but, my violent fantasies revolve around maiming the parent(s), for breeding in the first place, and then raising unbearable creatures. When I go out, I expect to enjoy myself and relax while I stuff my body full of food and beer, and talk about serious adult business (sex)… and I’m sorry, but if I wanted to be inconvenienced by irreverent, poorly educated creatures, I’d make my own mini humans, thank you very much.

But… but… but… Perhaps this was not the best of calls. I have heard tales of sheer despair from several new parents, about moments when they were close to suicide or infanticide (no joke), due to a screaming child they just could not console. The stares from the people around them (on a plane, in a restaurant, at the grocery store), the not-so-discreet mean comments, the angry complaints. Frankly, these are disheartening stories. Goddess knows I couldn’t bear the feelings of helplessness and guilt from not knowing how to fix something that appears so simple: “just smack the kid and he’ll shut right up” “can’t you teach that 18 month old some manners?”

image credit: The Oatmeal

So when I find myself about to karate chop what I believe to be a poor piss example of a child rearer, I remind myself of the stories of near madness I’ve been told time and time again, by trusted and sensible people. Then I take a deep breath, order a double bloody mary, and carry on… content with knowing that I can walk away from the sticky little poop heads, and that at night I’ll sleep soundly and un-bothered, while the poor bastard parents are stuck with that minion, forever.