There’s a fine line between letting kids be kids and letting your kid behave inappropriately in public places.
As a mom of two and a user of social media, I’m always drawn to articles and online posts made by breeders and non-breeders alike about the dos and don’ts of child etiquette in public places. I’ve watched Facebook battles brimming with malcontent and downright disgust, pitting parents against one another.
One side generally holds fast to the argument that as a parent, you are accountable for your children’s actions and nobody deserves to have their meal, movie or shopping experience ruined by an infuriated toddler.
The other side generally maintains that parenting doesn’t mean you can control the way a child behaves and beckons for tolerance and compassion.
Like most arguments, there are valid points mounting from both sides of the fence.
Kids really do the craziest, weirdest things. Just as their behaviour is primal and impulsive, their ability to redeem themselves with their chubby hands and cheeky grins is just as impressive.
But before I had kids of my own, I wasn’t so quickly won over by whining infants, snot-nosed toddlers and destructive preschoolers.
Before I had firsthand experience with having my favourite clothing ruined, my cherished belongings destroyed, the annoyance over needing to pull over for a potty break five minutes onto the highway, after sounding like a broken record in the mad dash out the front door, ‘Did you go? You better go. Make sure you go’, or my personal favourite — the ultimate meltdown in the worst place, at the worst moment, in front of the most intolerant crowd — I wasn’t nearly as forgiving as I am now.
Like any working mom, my patience runs thin as my wine glass overflows by the end of the day.
While I have always maintained that our society, as a whole, could stand to chill out, reach out and help out a little more — I don’t think forgiveness or tolerance should translate to open season for breeders of brats.
Call it being a narcissistic muttonhead if you will, parents are often, sometimes unknowingly, guilty of assuming everyone likes their kids.
And this is where we have to remind ourselves that ‘nobody loves your kids like you do’. As a parent, I’m often moved by the manners of minions and the pragmatic patience of parents, just as much as I’m dismayed by the ignorance of some breeders when it comes to the absence of ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ in the vocabularies of their children, or the lack of correction of mean-spirited behaviour.
Then I remind myself that anybody can have children. Even the ones who still behave like children themselves. I chalk it up to common sense when I exercise my right to scold a kid behaving badly who is not my own. With me, this is a two-way street — if my attention is somewhere else, I like to think that old-school sensibility will reign supreme with other parents who take note of my little one misbehaving.
I suppose when it comes down to it, life is too short to fret about stepping on toes. Sometimes you just have to take the lead and take one for the team — whether that team is your own family or someone else’s unruly brat. I long ago realized that approach is everything. A smile or a joke can cut through the tension and a kind gesture sure can go a long way.
So, if my kids ever chalk your sidewalk, ride their bikes on your lawn or shove your son in the sandbox (boo) — you have ever right to speak up and tell them no. Just remember I would rather hash it out over a cup of coffee, rather than hash tagging it into next week.
And if some waiter wants to give me a $5 discount for a well-behaved child, the next round is on me.
