Have you noticed how people get offended if you say something not so nice about kids. Yesterday I was watching this little fellow dashing about the place being a thorough nuisance and I said, I hate kids. And a colleague of mine expressed shock and dismay and responded with a 'how can you say that.'
Oh, very easily. Kids are not cute per se. They are insufferable, painful and a complete nuisance if they are allowed to get out of their place. The word 'hate' of course only underscores my level of tolerance with the scores of parents who fondly believe that the apples of their eye are also entitled to hold that position in the ocular vision of others.
I disagree. Keep your kids to yourself and do not inflict them upon others. I see no justification in letting little blisters loose upon unsuspecting humanity whose members are then expected to say 'tho thweet' or 'how adorable' or 'what a little bundle of energy' when they'd much rather boot the guy out of there.
There is this ghastly little conspiracy in mankind that compels all of us to exchange these meaningless exclamations of affection at a time when the kid is kicking our shins, making a mind numbing racket or being a natural nuisance.
I belong to the school that believes most parents would fail a test to be parents and are thoroughly unqualified to take on that responsibility. Let me hasten to explain that children, like assorted chocolates, are delightful and highly acceptable when they are kept in their place. Seen, not heard. Well mannered children are a pleasant experience.
It is when they are allowed to intrude on the adult world that things start going wrong. Like why would you cart a four year old to a cricket match or a movie hall or a concert by Asha Bhonsle. The kid is going to be a pest for everyone else because he is going to get bored.
By the same token, why do so many parents call on your home with their brood in tow. It is such frightful manners to fetch up with Tingu, Bingu and Dingu to someone's place and then let them off the leash so they can put their grubby little hands on other people's things.
How you ever noticed how affectionately parents admonish their child when he is creating mayhem and messing up the sofa. Your sofa. Darling, don't do that, don't leave marks on the sofa, don't kick your heels, naughteeeee boy, uncle will be angry.
Uncle, angry? Uncle would rather land a couple of good ones in the nether regions. Angry is an inadequate word. I ask you, why is expected of us to be nice to someone who is unconcerned about our peace of mind or our things (oh, I am so sorry, he broke it, he is so energetic, won't sit still for a minute). I don't want to be nice to you, I don't want you to visit, go away.
Keep your kids at home, that is where they belong. Parents also labour under this patently false idea that everyone loves to know about their children's particular habits. How he plays the guitar or copies Aamir Khan or sings some flipping pop song. Read me loud and clear on this one. I
don't want to know about your kid. Keep it to yourself. And I do not want a live demonstration or performance. I do not want to have to sit there and say fulsome things about this child who should be in bed in the first place.
And since I have gone down steeply in my colleague's estimation I might as well go for broke. I do not like kids on planes next to me if their parents cannot control them. Kids at official functions because Mum and Dad are too inconsiderate to leave them home.
Parents who never seem to stop their children from running down corridors, screaming on top of their lungs in public places or being included in adult conversations and functions.
Take the apple of your eye and place him in the fruit basket at home. We'll all be happier.
Article by Bikram Vohra. Courtesy: Gulf Today