Saturday, April 5, 2008

Excuse me?!?!

If anyone is planning an event in the near future, where a microphone or megaphone might be in order, fear not! I have the perfect thing for you. My son. I swear to you this child has no volume control. At least not at the appropriate times that one would wish for it. What is perhaps the most perplexing and frustrating thing for me is that when I need him to be quiet, he is not. When I need to him to speak up so that I can actually hear him, he whispers. I am getting bald patches from the hair pulling that this provokes. However, this is not the thing that prompted this post. Not directly.

Yesterday afternoon was a perfect example of of his inability to control this "gift". We made a stop at the bank in the midst of my lengthy list of boring and endless errands. This is not a favourite task for me or for the children, but alas it is something that must be done. In all the years I have been frequenting banks, I must admit that I have never seen one that is a party scene (wouldn't that be cool), but they aren't all hush hush like the library either. Having said that, when we are out in public and especially when we are in somewhat confined spaces such as a bank that is rigged with silent alarms, I do like my spawn to at least pretend to exercise some decorum lest they scare the little Barbie doll behind the counter and prompt her to trigger said alarm. I'd hate to have to try and get the kids to sleep on a concrete slab. Personally I can sleep anywhere, anytime, but they are a little pampered in that respect. They would at least require a sheet.

I digress.

Yesterday we stopped at the bank and the kids ran (yes really) to their normal corner where the bank has supplied some rather ancient looking Fisher Price toys that are probably holding enough germs and viruses to kill off an entire third world country. I stood in the long line up looking as bored as I could possibly manage in the hopes that the Barbies would hurry up and get me through the line. In front of me in the line was an acne covered teenager humming along to his iPod, a rather good looking guy in a power suit who probably drove up in the compensation car I saw out front, and a pinched looking woman who looked like the broom that was normally stored up her ass had in fact been pushed up so far it was about to fill the hole left by her shrunken heart. I'm sure there were other people in the line too but these were the ones I noticed.

I knew right away that this broom cupboard of a woman was going to be an issue, but hoped that my instincts were a little further off than they usually are. Sure enough, my son decided that the bank would be the perfect place to test out his admittedly stellar vocal range. Top of his lungs, singing some completely made up lyrics.

I shushed him a couple of times and his sister tried to clamp her hand over his mouth and nose to smother him into silence but he would not be dissuaded. We got closer to the front of the line and I could see the acne commercial, the Barbies and the power suit stifling giggles at my son's little ditty so I didn't bother shushing him anymore. In fact, my extreme blush (think lobster) was disappearing and I was fast approaching a semi normal complexion. I was happy to have scored such an amazing crowd of people. Happy that I was not being chased with pitchforks for bringing this hellion into their midst and disturbing the peace.

This feeling of relief was rather short lived however. Broom lady had finally finished her business and was heading towards us to leave the bank. I really thought she was going to be her proper little British self and keep walking. Oh how wrong I was.

Broom Lady: "May I suggest that the next time you bring your......children <said with incredible scorn>......into a public place like this, that you keep them within an appropriate range and actually control them?" (all said in her snippy little British accent)

Me: "uuuhhhhhh" (yes, I'm a little slow on the uptake)

Broom Lady: "I really have no wish to be subjected to this......noise <there's that scorn again>....when I come into the bank and expect peaceful quiet to conduct my business"

Power suit guy: **GASP**

Acne Boy: **Bug Eyed**

Twinkies: **Gaping mouths**

I looked at her, balled up my fist, sang "Another one bites the dust" at full volume and punched her in the head.

"How's that for peaceful quiet bitch!?"

Actually I stood there dumbfounded while she waddled off with the broom sliding further up her ass than it already was. Of course by now, my son was perfectly quiet. He was too busy watching his mother get bitched out to continue his song. He waited until we got to the grocery store to continue .... where he found a few other preschool aged children to join him. They will begin their world tour, to promote their album, in the summer.

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