During a nice meal out, I tried not to look over at the kids who kept crying and fussing.
There were two little ones — “new models,” I call them — who competed to make the most noise possible.
I don’t mean to complain because my wife and I went through those days with our own monkey children.
I have memories seared into my skull from when everyone at every table turned to witness all the cranky commotion.
It was particularly bad one time because my then-infant daughter had been so good for so many outings that we were unprepared for the outburst. We’d pressed our luck. We were due.
Again, I’m not complaining. It’s not easy to be a human being no matter what age you happen to be.
True, new models have many important things they don’t have to worry about, including paying bills, maintaining a home and deciding what to watch on TV. They’re excused from all the big-time decisions.
But their lives are often terribly frustrating. Diapers can’t be very comfortable, and no matter how caring and quick the parent is, time will be spent squirming in “boom boom.” I’m irritated thinking about it.
It’s an established fact that babies can’t text because they chew on phones. They can’t be trusted to reliably stick fingers in their noses, so operating a keyboard is a no go. Besides that, they can’t read.
Imagine being forced to watch all of humanity worship at the altar of the smartphone while you’re excluded. It’s a recipe for a thousand screaming fits at otherwise quiet restaurants.
In our day, we often had issues at the grocery store. Just writing that sentence caused vivid flashbacks.
When our kids were young and easy to pick off the ground, the most exciting thing we did as a family was go to the grocery store. We were too tired for anything else.
We had full-throated crying jags in the aisles. These happened well into the toddler years. They never explained their fits, but screaming banshees riding in shopping carts aren’t expected to spell out their motives.
I saw somewhere that the reason we hate traffic is because it isn’t always bad. Most days, you drive into work and get stuck at the same places for more or less the same amounts of time.
Then there’s that one rare commute when every light turns green when you need it. You reach the office so early that you have to find ways to entertain yourself before the boss arrives to start the workday proper.
It’s that one glorious, traffic-free day that makes the regular traffic so annoying because you know it doesn’t have to be so bad.
I submit that it’s the same for screaming tax deductions. They do wonderfully until they do terribly. Then it gets painful.
I said that I tried not to look at the kids who were so demanding at the restaurant, but the operative word is “tried.” I failed miserably.
While I didn’t respond after every outburst, my head was on a swivel for much of the meal.
My dad blames that on human nature. The sound of a crying child is supposed to annoy into action, so we’ll respond quickly.
I trust parents to deal with their children. I’ve been there and done that and made resolutions that I can’t keep.
I look. I can’t help it. My hope is that it’s always a look of sympathy, not aggravation.
M. Scott Morris is a former editor of The South Alabamian. He’s a writer and editor living in Tupelo, Mississippi.
