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I’m not a parent.

I have to preface this, because I can imagine some parents won’t take non parents seriously.

That’s fine. Exit stage left.

Someday, I may have children. This all depends on a couple of things.

1. I get married
2. I don’t hate my spouse (obviously number 1 wouldn’t happen if I had any inkling of hated)
3. My spouse doesn’t baby our children/be a pushover

So, it’s possible, but I’m not in a rush.

My children, however, would not be loud, annoying, or babied.

There’s a word in the English language (and Romanian) that they’d be incredibly familiar with: No.

That’s right.

Growing up, you have to be taught that no, you can’t always have things your way.

I went to the museum yesterday, and parents had no concept of the word no. At first guess, you’d say, “probably some trashy kid who got knocked up at (insert any age).”

No, fully-grown, 20-30 somethings.

If I’m in line to touch the electricity machine, that means I’m waiting for it. That means I’m next. I don’t care if your snot-faced six year old comes up just as the person ahead of me finishes. No, it’s my turn.

To be fair, we let several (more than several) bratty children ahead of us, but–like any disease–they kept coming.

The parents were socially inept, as well. They ranged from awkwardly butting in front and trying to incorrectly explain how electricity works (these are the geniuses reproducing) to the parents who just shrugged and gave the “kids will be kids” face.

Kids will be what you mold them to be. Kids need some structure.

So, if they’re clapping in the planetarium, knock it off. If they jump the line, say no, gently remove them and put them in line.

“Just don’t go places on the weekends,” is what I’ve heard.

Really? Did children monopolize the weekend? I work a regular work week. I’m going to enjoy my weekends, and unlike the majority of twenty-somethings, my scene isn’t the nightclub and pounding back mixed drinks while entertaining some halfwit at a bar.

Thanks, but I’ll take a museum day any day.

If I jumped a line anywhere, I’d get my butt chewed out. Someone would say something.

How will kids adjust to the real world when you’re not coddling them? What about when poor Jimmy can’t get his way when he’s 17? What if he’s such a baby that his new girlfriend says she’s just not that into him? Waaahh

Seriously, I’m all for making your kid’s childhood great, but manners and common sense aren’t Hitler’s inventions. You can say no to your kid and they won’t hate you forever.

Heck, their concept of forever is a road trip to the mall.

Most importantly, I guess, is the manners. I don’t care what you do to your kids at home. If you’re in public and your kid does something that an adult shouldn’t do, and you don’t reprimand your kid, you’re a lousy parent. I don’t care how many gray hairs you have. I don’t care how many hours of sleep you lost. I don’t care about anything regarding you, at all.

Excuses. Don’t have kids if you can’t set a good example for how they should be.

Period.

Maybe I don’t have kids now, but when I do, I’ll parade my little troops around, because they will be well-behaved. Trust me, I’ve seen them. It can be done. I was one of those kids! Never threw tantrums. Why? Because I’d lose playground privileges. I’d lose Barbie privileges. I’d lose skating privileges. Anything I liked was taken from me if I acted up.

Good lesson, too. You won’t ever see me lose my cool.

So, thanks Mom.

If you were offended by this post, you probably need a reality check.

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