the cheese stands alone

The Pitter Patter

The recent news item about a school bus driver batting a bratty boy on his bus has Serenity feeling not so serene. (I completely agree, btw.)
Big Arm Woman has her hands full of little not-so-very angels too.

All this made me remember a spot of spats about spawn going on back in my old neighborhood...

The Letter Everyone Is Too Nice To Write

Dear Wendy,
There is the final stepped-on nerve, there is the final straw that broke the camel's back, and then there is Paige.
Let's make this clear right off the bat... Paige is YOUR child. You and Tim begat her. In a jump of logic you can't quite seem to grasp, you and Tim are responsible for her. For her well-being, for her behavior, and for taking care of. Not us. Not your friends, who are a rapidly-dwindling category due to all this, not your neighbors. Paige is not the neighborhood child. She is not everyone's duty.
We know she's only three. We know she's not going to have perfect manners just yet. We know she can't be understood by anyone but you and Tim, and that you're only guessing at what she's babbling. We know we don't want any part of it.
She's your albatross, and it's your neck. Don't expect us to carry your burden.
Who spoiled her? Who raised her to have no restraints, no rules? Who raised her to be the near-autistic, unintelligible, more-trouble-than-a-pack-of-capuchin-monkeys-on-crack? That would be you, Wendy. You and Tim.
So when one of you brings her to someone's house, uninvited, and expects those people to assume responsibility for her entertainment and welfare while you run off to visit someone else, or while you're at home sitting on the couch recovering from an all-night visit to your local friends, that is unacceptable.
When you turn your child loose in a home not yours, to torment the pets, throw anything she can reach around like a tornado, and make a bigger mess than Hurricane Andrew while you mutter "oh Paige, stop that." and wait for someone else to rectify the problem, that is unacceptable.
When Paige throws a fit or two or nine, as she is well-known for, it is not for others to deal with it. That is unacceptable.
When you decide you are too tired or too stressed out from running after Paige all day to keep her from destroying what little she hasn't destroyed already, it isn't time to take her someone's home and drop her off for their children, who don't particularly like her, to play with so you can have some free time. This is not acceptable.
Let's cut to the chase, Wendy. Your child is the worst behaved, most animalistic child anyone has ever seen. No one wants to spend time at your house because while there is any other adult around, you assume they will monitor YOUR child's actions in YOUR house.
Why a letter here? Why don't we all confront you and try to make you understand you are losing friends because you think we all want to mind your kid? Because, as much as we hate to admit it, you can't take a hint to save your life, Wendy.
Example: how many times have we told you we don't want to hear about your junkie-friend Yasha, or your local friends down the block that we all avoid? Uncountable. How many times in a conversation do you yammer on about them to us? Uncountable. I rest my case.
To be honest, we feel sorry for you and Tim. You are blindly accepting of every single bit of bad acting-out and wretched mischief that constitutes your child's daily life. You are reaping the fruit of the spoiled rotten tree. We want to be your friends. But we don't want to raise your child.
It's YOUR tree. No one else's. Yours.
Please, keep your fruit on your side of the fence. It's rotten to the core.
Sorry.
Us

written back in June '03, but still sadly necessary