Other People’s Children

I love my kids. But I am not a “kid person”. With very few exceptions, I find other people’s children to be annoying at best, highly irritating at worst. The Boy and the Girl are friends with some children who live down the street from us. These nice folks are constantly inviting my kids over to play. As much as I love having a few hours to myself, I dread knowing that it means that at some point, I will have to reciprocate. It will be “my turn”. I hate it when it’s my turn.

Today is the day. The Boy asked if the children from up the street could come to play, and the Girl chimed in with “Yeah, let’s have them over!” So these neighborhood children are here, in my house, fighting with my kids and breaking their toys. At one point the younger one, a girl of about seven, came up to me and declared, “I’m hungry!” in a tone that I immediately translated into “Get your butt off the couch and feed me!” I cut up some fruit and put some fish crackers on a plate, and all of the children proceeded to hoard fish crackers, causing much screaming and grabbing. I gave them each a juice box, which the neighbor children inhaled. Then they demanded more. I offered them each  glass of water instead of juice, which they refused.

Soon we’ll be eating supper and we’ll send them home. My turn will be over for another day.





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