We had a friend call us the other day. She's coming to town with her kids and she wants to know if they can stay at our place for a couple of days.
We put her into a stall pattern. We don't quite know how to deal with this.
See, it's not our friend. We love her dearly and would be delighted to have her come and stay. It's ... well, it's her kids.
I call them Damien and Beelzebub, a 9 year old boy and a 6 year old girl. They are devil spawn children who nobody but their mother can't bear to be around, even for a few minutes. They are whiny, attention-sucking, destructive, spoiled, demanding demons who arrive complaining, spend their entire visit screaming at full volume, breaking things, interrupting conversations, testing the limits of human endurance, and leaving scorched earth in their wake.
Classic behaviour from Other Peoples' Children - also known (to me, at least) as O.P.C.
Now, I'll admit here, I'm not a big fan of O.P.C. in general. You remember the old guy on your block when you were growing up, the one who would steal your soccer ball if it went into his rose bushes? That will be me in a few years.
I am grouchy and uneasy around any but the best-behaved little sprouts, and even around them, the best I can get to is "aloof and indifferent". Hey, some people dote on kids, some don't. Me? Not so much.
Oh, I liked my own kids just fine and I have all kinds of time for my grandchildren. But when I went out in public with my kids when they were younger, I was utterly mortified if they pulled temper tantrums or did anything destructive or wrong. and I watched them like a hawk to head of trouble before it arrived.
The point is, I never assumed that my children were angels just because they were my kids and I loved them. I had to love them. I was their Dad. But I wanted other people to love them, too. Which meant keeping them on a fairly short leash when in public.
Our friend, on the other hand, seems completely oblivious to her children's behaviour. She just doesn't see how bad they are. It mystifies me. This is a woman who in every other way seems totally aware of her surroundings, and yet can carry on a conversation like this:
"So I said to her, Arlene, you just (Not now, sweetie, mommy's talking) you just have to put your foot down. I mean, really, she allows (Not now, baby, mommy's in the middle of a conversation) she allows herself to be bullied by everyone. But Arlene has always (In a minute, dear, mommy's talking to these nice people) has always been the kind of person who would give you the shirt (That's nice, dear, but I'm talking right now) the shirt off her back. So I said (Sweetie, in a while, I'm just visiting, why don't you go play?) so I said to her ..."
OK, by now I'm just seething, about one second away from grabbing the little wretch by his collar and hoisting him up so he's dangling at eye level and screaming at him, "Look, kid, you're nine years old. That's old enough not to be velcroed to your mother. Now buzz off and amuse yourself so we can talk!"
But of course I don't, because if the little bugger does buzz off, chances are within seconds his sister will come in crying with a head wound or the dog will be yelping and rolling around to put out a fire in her fur.
How does she not see this in her children? Even my cats see it. Our dog Roxy, who is so dumb still bonks her head every time she gets up after sleeping under the coffee table, lays her ears back when she hears these kids' names.
I guess there's no way to say to our friend, "Absolutely, you're welcome to come stay, but your children have to camp in the car.". So we'll come up with some excuse for why they can't visit. And maybe in a few years, when her kids are in military school or prison, we will make it up to her. She can come for a good long stay.
But till then, no dice.
As we made the decision, you could sense the relief in the room. My wife relaxed. The cats stretched out. Even Roxy got up to get a drink of water.
And bonked her head. Of course. She was relieved. But still pretty dumb.Don't shoot the messenger, but Christmas is coming! Nils Ling's book "Truths and Half Truths" is a collection of some of his most memorable and hilarious columns. Send a cheque or money order for $25.00 (taxes, postage and handling included) to RR #9, 747 Brackley Point Road, Charlottetown, PE, C1E 1Z3
