Extremist Parenting

I've been to the mall twice in the last four days.

I know, I know, you're thinking, "what is this, 1993?" Valid point.

No, you see, I went to the mall on Saturday night because I got this coupon in the mail from a jewelry store -- well, really, my dad got this coupon in the mail from a jewelry store that is unaware that A) he is dead, and B) he doesn't live at my house -- and it was for a free pair of pearl earrings. I mentioned the coupon to my mom, and naturally, being the pack rat she is, she wanted me to go get the earrings for her. Since I'm a good son, I did just that. And I brought backup with me in the form of Becker.

But really, Becker and I had just eaten a big dinner at Chimichangas and had some time to kill before he went off and partied with his girlfriend and her roommates, and before I turned into a pumpkin for the night.

So we got the earrings.

Then Monday night, I decided I wanted to go to the Borders at this mall. So I went. The Norton Anthology of American Literature was on sale for $3.99 per volume. So I bought the three volumes that covered 1865 to the present. Because, let's face it, American literature before 1865 was really, really boring. And I can say that with some authority, since I took about four different American literature classes in college. But awesome book sales aside, the Monday night trip to the mall was kind of interesting...

As I arrived, a lady was exiting the mall with two small children in tow. One was about seven or eight. He was doing his own thing, but generally following his mom. The other one was about three and was screaming as if his life depended on it. The mother was, apparently, the kind of parent who exerted control over her children through implied terror. As they approached the crosswalk to cross the empty street to their car on the nearly deserted parking lot, the mother said, "hold my hand -- a car might come along and hit you and kill you."

"Really?" I thought. "That's kind of like going all in on your first hand, lady. You should save some of that sauce for later." But I was mistaken, as there was plenty of the aforementioned sauce to go around.

"There are spiders in the parking lot, and they're going to eat you!" the lady yelled at her shrieking son. "You have to stay close to me!"

Okay, now, just wait a damn minute. If I was that kid, I'd be questioning my mother's fitness for parenting at this point. I mean, what sort of parent parks their car in an area this unsafe? Crazy murderous drivers? Hungry child-eating spiders? What the hell? Wasn't there any other place to park?

This whole time, the older kid is doing just fine, following behind his mom and brother at a safe distance of ten feet or so. He clearly wasn't interested in being associated with those two and their foolishness.

Then, when they were in the crosswalk and I was about 30 feet away in the middle of the street (again, I remind you that there is practically nobody here, so jaywalking is very excusable at this point), the lady ups the ante with the little kid one more time, just to make sure her child is too scared to run away.

"There are monsters out here, and they're going to get you!" she yelled.

And as she yelled it, both she and the screaming child at her knee looked directly at me. And, in one of those strange circumstances where you lock gazes with another person, I looked directly at her. And then her kid.

And while I had thought the earlier screaming was something for the record books, this kid drove it right on home.

I frightened a small child from ten yards away while doing nothing out of the ordinary.

One more item checked off my bucket list.