Cram a sock in it!

   Sometimes, going out in public with two young children (shudder), is like leaving the house with a bomb strapped to your chest. This bomb has no timer or trigger. It just goes off, exploding in your face.

I go to the  local mall with Phie, then age three now age five, to buy some socks at Wal Mart. While standing in line, between nose picking and babbling to herself,  she spies something shiny with tired, sleepy eyes. She takes two steps, reaches out, and grabs a sparkly package in her sticky fist . " I wann' it!".  "No, sorry baby. We're here for the socks not candy."

     The flash is so  bright and fast, it takes me a moment to realize whats happened. I'm not getting new socks. Change of plans. I'm 270+ lbs. I've been told I can be quite intimidating. And I'm pleading with a little girl, with bows in her hair. This fight is fixed. Shes gonna win. I "remove" her from the situation, meaning I leave the coveted  20pack on  the conveyor. Scooping her under my arm, I leave, without the prize. This is how I discipline. Time outs and threats of no dessert.  I'm tough but fair, I think. 

   But these other parents. These jerks, who let there children run around, wreck shot all over the place, that last time I checked, wasn't a park or play structure. Kids are in control. and as parents, we are basically powerless to do anything about it. Not like the way our parents doled out discipline. 

  My background is old-school European. Smacks where not uncommon at my house growing up, in the '80's.When I was born, the spare room was a bar. A place my hipster mom and dad had drinks and took long, deep draws from unfiltered cigarettes. They never really changed the room after I arrived save putting a crib across from the bar fridge. I grew up listening to the gentle hum of a compressor while i slept. When I was four or five, my folks had a party. The guests brought their children. The unsupervised kids were to play together with  the toys in my room. Instead, all the neighbors kids drank from some Irish Creme that was in the fridge in my room. It was ugly. I wont get into the details, but needless to say, I was reprimanded.
   My mom used to make me fill in the squares on graph paper in a checker pattern as punishment .The worse the infraction, the more papers I had to fill out. I spent many a beautiful Saturday afternoons, in my room filling in squares. Again tough but fair. Just to be clear, my rents took no shit. If  my sister or I got outta line, we got the business.

     Cant do that anymore. Not even as a last resort.and kids know this. So now, those little pukes that run around in movie theaters, grow up to be teenagers without a clue of how to behave in public. And I'm a douche if i tell your little gremlin  to "Please be quiet and  sit down". Moms and dads have lost their balls. No one yells at their kids anymore.

  I don't know what to do either. If your reading this waiting for some secret knowledge I uncovered, your going to be disappointed . I'm lost too.

  But as one parent to another, when your kiddies start to melt down, don't just stand there carrying on like its normal for a child to start throwing tantrum on the floor  and knocking products off of store shelves.Its not. Its annoying and loud.  Take them home, or tell them to "Shut the hell up and behave." Either option is  acceptable. I favor screaming at kids in public, though. It lets other parents know its OK to expect your kids to be normal sauce.