Please, Discipline your Elders

Recently, I had occasion to be hosting an event for children. The ‘for children’ aspect is important to note as I relay the rest of this story to you. Did you take note of that? A CHILDREN’S event.

This children’s event began with a reception. Since a reception is synonymous with free food and drink, there was indeed a cake and juice to be enjoyed by our guests.

I was doling out slices of cake when I was approached by a woman, in her sixties at a minimum:

Do you think I could have my cake for later?

As she said this, she pulled a TUPPERWARE CONTAINER out of her PURSE complete with a handy masking tape label on the lid and indicated that I should drop a piece of cake into it for her. She may have even shaken it a little at me, as in, “Hurry up minion, get a move on.” But perhaps my memory is just embellishing.

I wrestled my face under control and tried to stop my eye from twitching.

My worser self wanted to become a cake nazi and exclaim “NO! You mad cow. Give me that container and stop embarrassing yourself. No cake for you!”

My better self tried to rationalize: “Maybe she can’t take sugar this early in the morning. She’s just trying to manage her own digestive system. It’s not like ONLY the kids are allowed to have cake.”

I paused. My two selves wrestled. Thankfully, my better self won out and I GRACIOUSLY, and I cannot emphasize this enough, GRACIOUSLY placed a piece of cake in the proferred Tupperware. There. Awkward moment over.

But no, having found a patsy, she wasn’t done with me. Oh no.

Do you think I could have two pieces?

I paused. My two selves wrestled yet again. I gave one very long Buster Keaton blink before I CALMLY, and I also cannot emphasize this enough, CALMLY explained to her, that I was expecting another hundred guests so maybe we should get through everyone’s first piece before I started handing out seconds.

Oh, well then.

She closed her Tupperware container with a sharp snap that I believe was the Tupperware equivalent of slamming a door and harumphed off.

Yes, I believe the correct word is harumphed.

I can tell you, the whole incident gave me pause. Having been at the receiving end of many a sixty-year-old woman’s glare as Griffin had yet another temper tantrum in the grocery store, or the library, or church, or restaurant, (I have mentioned he was a very difficult toddler haven’t I?) it now gives me great delight to say:

Excuse me. Could you control your elder please? She is disturbing me. Honestly. Some people’s grandparents.

About Tentative Equinox North

I live in small town mortgaged suburbia and commute a long ways to work as an arts administrator in a biggish city in the Great White North. I have one husband, three kids (1 girl and 2 boys), and one very enthusiastic Labrador-Retriever cross with Marley-ish tendencies. These are the things I tend to write about (not to be considered an exhaustive or otherwise limiting list): parenting and in particular parenting kids with brain challenges (learning disabilities, ADHD, and aspergers), the arts, particularly the performing arts, the weirdness of life and human behaviour, my conspiracy theory that we actually live in a Matrix-world (don't even bother trying to tell me we don't), and really, anything shiny.
This entry was posted in Aliens and uncharted planets, Minor notes in the celestial chord, Observatory and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

3 Responses to Please, Discipline your Elders

  1. whatatragiccomedy says:

    Ahaha. I agree about people who believe they have the right to say anything they want to you about raising your child. I don’t even have kids but my friend does and I have never seen so many strangers come up to a person and give unasked for advice with a smug superiority about them.

    And finally, you have found a moment of retribution!

  2. Wendy says:

    HAHAHAHA. That was good. When I got to the part where she asked for a second piece I was thinking “oh please please please kick her to the curb… PLEEEEEZ” and you did, so gently but capably. Thank you.

    Funny post!

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