Perpetually Peeved

It’s all fun and games until someone loses an eye

This weekend was good.  It was good because it included a date night.  Any time my husband and I are lucky enough to get a date night, we book a room at the Embassy Suites.  They have free drinks from 5:30 – 7:30 every night, the most comfortable beds known to man, and a kick-butt breakfast buffet that is included in the (very reasonable) price of the room.  If I ever win the lotto, I’m not buying a bunch of houses around the country, I’ll just travel from Embassy Suites to Embassy Suites.  

This weekend’s date night was extra-fun because we celebrated a good friend’s 30th birthday with a private karaoke room.  Yes, they have those and yes, they are as fun as they sound.  You can imagine what my head felt like on Sunday when taking the glass elevator down to the bacon buffet.  Maybe it was all that throbbing, but I think what happened next would have annoyed me in any case.  As I’m walking through the atrium, there is a baby – not even a year old – with a fork in one hand and a knife in the other beating the crap out of the porcelain plate in front of him.  Okay, A) why the hell are you letting a baby fling around two potentially dangerous utensils?  All I could think was, “it’s all fun and games until someone loses an eye.”  And, B) has it occurred to you that some people are trying to have a nice, calm breakfast and letting your kid tap out Back in Black in an atrium where – duh – sound carries is not the most considerate thing you could do?  

Fine.  Obviously this woman has not had the pleasure of a break (i.e. going anywhere without her child) and does not understand that when you don’t have your own kids with you, other people’s become increasingly annoying. 

So, I sit down and eat my breakfast (on the other side of the atrium) and begin to people watch.  I notice this couple with a child about Smalls’ age following them.  I notice them because they don’t look old enough to be grandparents, but they don’t look young enough to be parents of this 4-year-old.  As I’m concocting the story of their life in my head, I realize they are getting on the elevator and the 4-year-old has stopped at the coffee bar.  Oh no.  Hello?  People?  Are you not watching your child?  The child goes up on her tip toes and takes down a glass jar filled to the brim with coffee stirrers.  Glass jar, 4-year-old, no parental supervision.  Following me here?  

I didn't take a picture, so I snagged this one from:

Okay, now here’s the part that peeves me.  The little rascal who has absconded with coffee stirrers then proceeds to lift the container to her mouth and LICK the top of all the stirrers.  Like it were a giant ice cream cone.  At which point, a woman (who was clear across the atrium) comes over and says, “Rascal!, what are you doing? You need to stay near Mommy!”  The mother takes the glass of stirrers out of Rascal’s hand and puts it back up on the coffee bar.  No one else seems to notice this but me.  

I will never use a coffee stirrer again.  Thank you very little. 

Maybe it was something in the air.  On the way home later that day I pulled up to a stop sign at a fairly busy four-way intersection.  On the southeast corner of this intersection some candidate for Mother of the Year decided she would set up this: 

Buy yours at Wal-Mart

 “Here kids – just don’t slide into traffic!”  Oh, and nevermind that this is the corner where the neighbors all walk their dogs.  That’s just mud from the water.

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