Monday, August 6, 2007

Thoughts on Dudley Dursley

I've always shunned parenthood. To me it always appeared awful and boring. Small, snotting, angrily screaming people who comprehend nothing but their own needs. Dear god, the monotony. O, the obligation.

In fact, parents rarely seem happy to me. The vast majority of moms I encounter appear either:

1) Exhausted and miserable, or

2) as if her one truest hope is that every person in the immediate vicinity is watching her and her offspring interact and acknowledging her nobility of purpose as a mother.

And it is far from noble.

These shrieking mothers, catering to their obnoxious children's every whim at top volume, ensuring all the poor souls trapped on the bus can hear, they sicken me.

(to morbidly obese child) HERE, SWEETUMS, WANT SOME YUMMY CRACKERS? EAT SOME YUMMY CRACKERS! ARE YOU THIRSTY? DO YOU WANT YOUR SIPPY-CUP?

*ignoring mom completely, red-faced child repeatedly kicks elderly lady in adjoining seat*

OH, LOOK AT THAT, SWEETUMS. DO YOU SEE THAT BIG DOGGY? LOOK AT THAT BIG DOGGY SWEETHEART! LOOK HONEY! LOOK AT THE DOGGY!

*further kicking of small granny, who appears to be losing conciousness at the hands of vicious child*

(proudly) DON'T KICK THE NICE LADY SWEETUMS!

and on.

In fact, when I read Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone many long years ago, I thought it would revoluntionize parenting in the United States....because to me, nearly every parent-child operation I encountered was the spitting replica of Dudley and Aunt Petunia.

But throughout the years, my revulsion eased, my gag-reflex relaxed. I started to see that it wasn't the children's fault that their behavior was so abominable, it was their parents'. As that realization sunk in, I began to understand that cool people could be cool parents. And that gave me hope.

E, of course, was a constant source of patient and sincere encouragement.

(E) "Think of it as expanding the tribe. Creating a couple of groupies. We won't morph into mini-van owning childbots with matching Tevas, I swear."

(GS) "Do our dog, cat, and fish mean nothing to you? Are you saying that our thriving family of five is insufficient for your purposes? Are you a Mormon?"

One day, during one such soul-searching conversation, E turned to me and asked: "Do you really want for it to be just you and me for the rest of our lives?"

Hm. That's the question, isn't it sweetums?

1 comment:

charlotte said...

Even some of the moms in my circle of friends are rather spineless. I on the other hand almost take a (sick) joy in having very strict limits with my kid. Sometimes I wish I could give other moms a time out.