Baby Talk

I have to admit,

I can find
other people’s kids
a bit annoying
at times ….

( i’m not talking
about little babies –
even though some
of the illustrations
on today’s post might
lead you to think
otherwise….
but nope.)

.. and maybe the
irritation I feel
about certain
kiddie winkies
is pretty normal for
someone who used
to travel as much
as I did.

The ones I have in mind
seem to try to get under
your skin whether they
know you or not .

.. and since they’re
somebody else’s problem,
you hesitate to administer
what would otherwise be
patently called for..

— the hearty whack on the
ass and a loud ‘stop doing
that’.

Basically, you have to
resort to call them a
‘little ratbag’ under
your breath and leave
it pretty much at that..

Although sometimes
I think the father
(when available/identified)
should be liable to pay the
consequences of the child’s
lack of discipline.

A good
‘how’s your father’,
or similar.

Ah,
sweet justice.

Not that I was an angel
when I was a kid –

No, far from that,
but my parents
had the situation
well and truly
handled when
I acted up
in public.

Man,
you ain’t jest
whistlin’ Dixie.

Faster than
a speeding bullet –
my father’s hand
would descend and
give me the painful
instant karma I was so
obviously begging for.

If you don’t learn it
when you’re a kid,
you’re not gonna wanna
learn it later, and
discipline is something
we all should understand,
for the whole society’s
sake.

But sometimes,
I guess, kids are ok.

And today, we have
postcards featuring
( a few ) adorable kids
(if it’s possible to put
those two words together
and not form some kinda
oxymoronic improbability) .

Oh wait…
my kids were adorable,
so it is possible.

I was not adorable.

So, thank heaven
there must be
nothing to that whole
genetics thing.

Assuming…

well, that’s probably
not gonna help me any.

!! HOY !!

.