Every time I see kids, a danger alarm in the back of mind sets off. One wrong word, one act of carelessness and they’ll twist it into something degrading and shower me with swear words. It hasn’t happened to me, but I know enough about it to be wary. Kids always seem to have a bigger mouth than they should, when it comes right down to it. Tread softly, I say to myself, Self esteem is at stake.
The problem with kids is that no matter what the do. You cannot reply in kind. Not unless you wanna receive a good solid beating from an angry -unjust, yes- but very very angry crowd.
I was a wedding of a friend of a friend’s brother. For no other reason besides that I wasn’t kicked out. I sat in a corner, observant and watchful. Right in front of me sat a kid. I just observed.
He cried a respectable number of times, gulped down two platefuls and farted without restraint. I had to scoot over to avoid the impact. But it was worth it, seeing the old guy cringe his nose in disgust.
And then it hit me. This is me. This kid is my miniature doppelganger. He was fatter and a lot shorter than me. But in effect, he was as clinically retarded as I was his age. It was like a breath of fresh air.
As I observed more closely, he was more like me than I would’ve ever though possible. He unknowingly taught me a few new tricks to avoid unwanted company. Apparently, keeping your head down and making unseemly noises works too. For some reason though, I don’t think that was on purpose.
He even managed to catch the groom off guard. Something about a waiter wearing a better suit. I hear the groom made a few last minute clothing changes. Can’t say I blame him.
It was curiously satisfying, seeing him. I felt like Scrooge, only, it wasn’t christmas. Watching the little bugger wreck havoc without meaning to. Made me proud, he did.
Diary Without Pages 