LARGETONY Blog

I heard it coming and should have braced myself, but it was too late. I was in the grocery yesterday and there I was picking through the Granny Smith Apples (love them tart apples! Mmmm.) when I heard, from behind, the quick smacking of little leather soles. My brain quickly processed this as the sound of a small child running towards me. But my brain wasn’t quick enough, because just as I came to the conclusion, the 2-foot tall beast was upon me.

You know that game where you sneak up behind someone and nudge the back of their leg right at the knee and it makes their leg buckle? It was all the rage in elementary school. Try having it done to you, only instead of a nudge its the force equal to that of a good-sized Christmas Ham being tossed at you…and it hits both legs. That’s what it was like when the pint-sized terrorist attacked me.

You may have seen before in earlier posts that I really don’t like children very much. people always say to me, “Oh. But it would different if they were your own kids.” If I don’t like someone else’s kid, who I see only once in a while, why would I like my own kid who is around all the time? I thought I was pretty sure of my reasons for the dislike: Children are noisy, smelly, destructive, and difficult to have a real conversation with. (I never know what to say to kids.) But after the incident yesterday, I came to realize that I may dislike children because I am jealous of them.

Let me explain. ..so, the the kid comes crashing into the back of my legs and my knees buckle and I have to catch my balance on my shopping cart. Thank God I caught myself, or else would have hit the produce display and set off avalanche of Granny Smith apples. Sure, that would have had the plus of burying the snot-ridden little creature alive, but then there would have been all that bruised fruit. And what a waste that would have been. Back to the story. The kid attacks, I buckle, and all the women shopping around me (including the one who produced the precious toddler) started giggling at how cute it was. Being a basically polite person, I smiled in that “Oh, those kids!” sort of way and went on about my business of shoppping, leaving a sea of cooing and precious mock admonishments (sp?). Nowwhat if I had actually fallen and landed on the spunky tyke and his cabbage-y head slammed onto the tile floor like a cantelope No one would have thought it was cute. I would have been the bad guy…even though it was all the kids fault.

So I was smiling neighborly on the outside, but on the inside I was pissed. Not so much because the kid tried to make me a tackling dummy, but because not only did the mother not think there was anything wrong with her child running wild like a ferrel dog, but neither did anyone else in the vacinity. That is where my jealous stems from. I’m jealous of the sweet life that kids have. Kids rule the world. They are little mini-monarchs.

Think about it. Whatever he does, good or bad, the younger the child, the cuter it is. It’s like the boss who can’t tell a bad joke. Okay, I know that little kids have only been on the earth for a few months and don’t know proper social behavior. But when they do bad things and everyone around giggles and fawns all over them, how will they learn??

Those diminuitive dictators not only have immunity from…let me see….EVERYTHING, kids also have someone to feed them, put them to bed, and wipe their asses. It amazes me that people don’t find it disgusting that kids walk around with a load on their shorts all the time. Don’t get me wrong. I realize its a necessary evil until the kid is potty trained, but it’s still disgusting. Sure, it’s something we have to put up with in life. But its a disgusting thing we have to put up in life. If I had a load in my shorts, people would be revolted. And rightly so. But shit in your pants is revolting no matter how old you are. In fact, baby shit has a much more potent smell than anything I can remember plopping out of me. I’m not saying that kids should not be allowed to go when they have to go. I’m just saying, admit that its pretty nasty. Don’t pretend that a baby’s shit don’t stink.

Babies have it so good. I want to sleep most of the day away, be fed while sitting in a special chair, have everyone fawn over all the cute little things I do, and have someone bathe me then talc my bottom and balls. But I want to already be potty trained. I don’t exactly like the idea of being a turd-carrying member of the pre-school set. I want to live the life of a baby. Not for long. Just maybe for a week. I know I did that almost thirty years ago, but I didn’t know any different, so I blew the chance to enjoy it.

So, remember that, if any of you babies out there are having this blog read to you (another perk of the young). Enjoy the good life while you have it. It only gets harder from here.

This entry was posted on Sunday, February 13th, 2005 at 11:41 pm and is filed under being tony. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.