When Roo Bear woke up this morning, she was looking forward to a special treat at day care today. She’d been talking about it for a few days, in fact. She was going to get to go, with her class, to McDonald’s! She was so excited that she got a little smile whenever she was asked “where are you going?” It was positively adorable. She was even going to ride the bus, which had her pretty darn excited as well.
So I give her a kiss and a hug before I leave this morning, and she’s all excited and getting ready to go. I settle in to work, start producing some worthwhile stuff and then get informed that Maddy’s trip to McDonald’s has been called off.
It was called off because of two reactions from other parents.
The first was that there were parents who were fretful lest their child consume a kid’s-size hamburger from the iconic fast food chain. The horror! Keep in mind it’s not a food allergy thing; these were just parents who were losing their minds because God forbid their kid have a burger and a handful of fries. You know, we all had burgers and fries from McDonald’s growing up. I know for my family it was a special treat, just like it is for Roo.
And it was harmless. Kids like to have those special treats. So long as they remain special, it’s no big deal for kids to have some processed food, even if it’s bad for them. Just don’t make it a regular diet.
The further thing that drives me mad is that the same people complaining about the quality of product from fast food joints usually put the same slop in their kids’ (and their own) bodies when they go to Outback, Ruby Tuesday’s and the like. Wake up people! The only difference is that you pay more and have a waiter. In fact, I remember a waitress at TGI Friday’s years ago confiding that the food is frozen and shipped to them, and it’s not like they have a team of chefs working tirelessly to slaughter beef cows and create steaks. Industrial food is the same no matter where you get it.
On top of that, if you have a frozen dinner once in a while, look on the back cover. It’s typically even worse for you than McDonald’s. Just because you’re oblivious to it doesn’t make it “better.”
The second complaint from some of the other parents? Riding the bus. Riding. The. Bus.
Is it any wonder people in this country/culture have become a bunch of pantywaist, overgrown children? WTF? Would it make you feel better if a government panel were convened to coddle your…I can’t even muster it. It’s disbelief at this point. This is why people sit around like sheep all the time, unable to fend for themselves in a tough situation. Danger! Must avoid any and all danger at all costs!
It’s like when we were at the kiddie pool this weekend — the one that comes up to a three year old’s knees — and there were two kids in life jackets. If anything, the jackets would keep them from being able to get up if they fell in the knee-deep water. The bulkiness of them, as these appeared to have been built for older kids on jet skis, would have made it too difficult to maneuver their own bodies up off the bottom. Because the kiddie pool is only as deep as a three year old’s knees. And their parents were there hanging over them, too. Way to raise independent risk-takers.
And thanks to a bunch of whiny maggot weakling parents, our little girl’s big treat for the day, the thing to which she was so looking forward, was cancelled. So they can all go [expletive] themselves, and if any of them happen to read this, save me the time and effort — just open your own hand and slap yourself hard enough to leave a mark. Then tell yourself it’s from me.
Oh, and thanks for making the day care providers’ day more difficult by causing them to change their plans at the last minute. It’s not enough that they feed, teach and take our kids to the bathroom every day while we work. They should also be made to reschedule an entire day on the fly because you’re an oversensitive bunch of jackasses. Good for you.
Yeah, I know I’m all about love and forgiveness. But you messed with my little girl’s feelings and that means a little bit of wrath for you.