Thursday, November 6, 2008

"They'll let any A**hole be a Father"

I try very hard to not be a judgemental mom. I'd be the first to say I fail at that on a regular basis, but I try. I've recently had an experience, however, that made me want to get up and yell at someone about their horrible parenting. I didn't, because I knew nothing would come of it but a headache and drama so I didn't, but I was close.
See, lately I've been spending a lot of time at the YMCA while Boy is at swim team practice. It's real nice cause Mr. Hobbitfeet takes Girl home with him and I can just read a book and chat with the other parents for nearly two hours.
On Tuesdays and Thursdays the Y has swim lessons after swim team practice. It can sometimes get very crowded and rowdy in the waiting area on those days. Last Tuesday I was lost in my book. A little brother was waiting the whole time with his mom and I occasionally let him borrow toy cars from my purse. It kept him quiet and helped this mom.
About a half hour before practice ended a kid came in with his dad and got ready for swim lessons. Again, I was in my book so I wasn't noticing a whole lot. That is until this kid started going nuts.
He was running around, chatting with anyone who would listen, bullying the little brother, screaming, yelling, and jumping. I looked around hoping his Dad would come and put a stop to it. Another swim team mom said, "I think he left!" The mom with the little brother tried to engage him in conversation, found out he was 6 among other things. He wouldn't settle and we all went in to mom mode. I doled out cars and made garages out of paper cups. Little Brother's mom tried to get the staff involved but it was clear that 20 minutes before his class, this boy's dad had dropped him off at the Y wearing nothing but swim trunks. Then he pooped his pants.
Finally we got the staff to listen to us. The director got him a new suit out of the lost and found. His swim teacher searched the Y for the dad (who had, in fact, left) and we got him settled to playing with Little Brother and the cars. Finally practice was over, the boy went in for his lessons and I packed up my cars (grateful once again that I have so much crap in my purse). Why the Y opted to take care of things rather then check their records and call his parents was beyond me, but they chose to wait until the Dad picked him up before talking with him.
Too bad the story doesn't end there.
Today the spazzy little kid was back, still a half hour early, still wearing nothing but trunks, but his dad stuck around, at least physically. He ignored the kid the whole time, letting him run around just as much as he did on Tuesday. His dad just played his DS. I am not surprised. It's just that these are the cases when I wish people had to get licenses to have kids.

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