Searching for Pablo

The Letter "O"

September 25, 2007

 

 

I was waiting for my lunch at one of the restaurants near our office yesterday when bad news entered: a rowdy 3 year-old child and his equally uncouth mother.

I knew it from the first moment they barged into the restaurant. The kid was throwing a tantrum and the mother, in turn, was shouting invectives like Press Secretary Ignacio Bunye probably does for repeatedly being made a complete tool in front of the media by Executive Secretary Eduardo Ermita.

Right from the get-go, the boy imposed his impishness on the two ladies sitting adjacent to my table while the mother was queuing up to order. I, on the other hand, was sitting near the cashier’s counter, just waiting for bad luck to approach my table.  

I was watching bemusedly at the boy pulling the shirt of the lady in brown while she was trying to contain her patience. I wasn’t amused at the boy’s antics but at the reaction of the two ladies next to me. I looked at the mother and she was strangely apathetic to the fact that her kid was bothering somebody; perhaps she was even relieved that it wasn’t she he was upsetting.  

I knew they were annoyed from the manner they glared at the boy and I was waiting anxiously for one of them to knuckle-crack that boy’s head to knock some sense into him but still, nothing. I guess they decided to just ignore him so he would go away. Hmmn… I might have to do things on my own. I’ve always thought that if you want something done right, you do it yourself.

So about a minute goes by and the kid got bored pestering the two ladies and geared his tantrums towards his mother, which earned him a pinch on the ear. He squatted and bawled like a big baby (Okay, I have nothing to say to that because that’s what he essentially was).  Everybody was still ignoring the scene, including the mother.

I looked askance and our eyes locked. I meant me and the boy. He walked towards me and I stared right at him, daring him to come: “Common, boy. Bring it on, I ain’t impressed with your cuteness.”

He left his mother, who was by then ordering at the counter. His tiny right hands clutched at the white toy car as he languidly walked towards me, his face stained by tears and green goop.

When he attempted to put the toy car on my table, I told him no. He ignored me and leaned on my chair instead, totally invading my private space; the car now on top of the table while his right hand was feeling my biceps. His left hand, meanwhile, reached out to my food.  While an observer might see his actions as totally cute, I see right through what he’s trying to do.  That’s some power-play shit right there, the young grasshopper challenging the turf of the elder kung-fu master.    

And because I’m such a nice guy, I again asked him not to touch my food. His hand stopped in midair for a brief moment and continued its descent. I glanced towards the mother who just passed by my table, settled in her chair and not even bothering to admonish her child.

I fashioned a letter “O” with my thumb and middle finger, showed it to the boy and released the finger that’s already taut with tension. Not my fault really, I always do that in the middle of meals and I just happened to hit his hand in the process.

Not surprisingly, he wailed and ran towards his mother. I eyeballed the lady, waiting for her to come to me and surprisingly, she stayed. But she did let go a long diatribe after another about letting children be children and all that crap and how some people have no manners. Ha! Manners is what some people use to justify backbiting other people.

Now, I’m all for letting children be but their parents or guardians should take responsibility for the wayward actions of their ward. I’m sick of these parents who allow their child to annoy everybody else and then act like you’re so mean whenever you act in response. I mean, you don’t allow your dog to bite somebody’s ass just because the mutt is cute, do you?

Besides, not a single person in that restaurant gave me a dirty look so I guess everybody’s in agreement with me.  I tuned her out and I went back to enjoying my pork and chicken adobo.

 

Posted by searchingforpablo at 3:28 pm | permalink | comments[4]