The One With the Obnoxious Kid at Panera

What, praytell, has happened to common courtesy and raising your children properly?

I'm sitting here in a Panera Bread (had a You Pick Two with broccoli cheddar soup and half an Asiago Roast Beef sandwich, hold the onions, if you're wondering) and this kid walks up to my table. He was probably 6 or so. He stares at me for a minute until I look up at him, and when I do, he says, "Move. I want to sit there."

. . . . . . . .

Seriously.

I say, "No. I'm sitting here right now."

He goes and tells his mother on me. I don't know what he said, but I'm sure it went something along the lines of, "Mommy, I'm a giant brat and you are doing a sucky job raising me. The woman over there realizes this, and won't move from the table she's been sitting at for the better part of an hour to kowtow to my bratty ways."

Mother comes over to my table, brat child in tow, and says, "Hi. I'm sorry, but would you mind? My son really wants to sit at this table."

. . . . . . . . .

Seriously.

I said, "Well, no. I've been sitting here for a while, and I'm not going to leave for a while." She says there are several tables, and her son really wants to sit at this table. I say, I'm sorry, no.

This kid starts SCREAMING. Like, kicking and screaming, "IWANNASITATTHATTABLE!" kind of temper tantrum.

(Also, FYI, the person over the loudspeaker just called for Tinkerbell, because her order is ready. I love places where you can give your name for your order.)

Now, if you know me, you know I do not respond well to screaming children. Screaming at me, whether you're 6 or 60, is not the way to get me to do. . .anything, really. So I, of course, turn back to what I'm doing, as in, the discussion is closed. I see the woman go over to talk to a Paneras employee (a manager? I don't know.) and have a conversation, completely with wildly waving hands. The employee, bless them, shakes his head, says something, and the kid screeches.

Victory.

They sat down at a booth directly across the room from me, where both of them have been shooting daggers at me for the last 20 minutes or so. And you know what? I am going to sit here until they leave. I am going to sit in this exact spot until they're gone. So there. I could have given up my table. But why should I aid in this brat thinking he can do whatever he wants, and people are just going to hand it to him? His mother might do that, but I certainly am not.

Other than that, uneventful day. Dentist appointment, endocrinologist appointment. . .a whole lot of not a lot. Tomorrow's Wednesday. Thursday, I was going to head West, but it sounds like D is going to be here selling on Thursday, and it would be kind of dumb for me to go there while he's here. We'll see. We're still going to do the pictures this weekend.

I feel like I need to find a list of writing prompts somewhere. I don't know that I'm going to be able to keep this up for 100 days in a row if I'm just talking about my life because, you know. . .not that interesting.

Maybe I could just put up excerpts from my novel I'm not writing. (I should get on that.)