Thursday, April 27, 2006

Won't someone think of the children?

Yes, I thought of them last night, as I was escorted to my seat in the very last row of the theater to see Tony Kushner's A Bright Room Called Day. Occupying every other seat: An entire class of 8th graders on a field trip. Giggling convulsively. Hollering to friends on the other side of the theater. Beating each other with programs. My $80 depo shots have nothing on this shit. The tickets were traded for today's showing and the adults duly fled.

Then, on the way to work this morning, I ran into a poor, poor woman who was either a Super Nanny or a severely underpaid daycare worker. She was pushing this enormous plastic stroller - straight out of the rental caddies at Disneyland - that seated six children. Six! Not to be outdone by the mighty stroller, she managed to hang onto three more who were walking. That's nine, for those of you too lazy to get out the calculator. I do have to admit, the two-year olds were all just the tiniest bit adorable when the six in the stroller all turned to watch me walk by with huge giggly grins on their faces and outstretched hands, but the cuteness factor was curbed as the Nanny was forced to stop and yell at one of the walking children who kept detaching himself. As I walked by she looked up at me and gave me a knowing laugh, saying, "How're you this morning?" Heh.

In the "my neighborhood is a crime scene" news of the morning. Read this. Except I heard more than four, more like five or six. Rumor is one of my neighbors saw the car, which is not the one they describe in the article, so I think he's going to call in. (Cue call from my mother in 3...2...)


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