I have a question. What’s the protocol for the following situation, which is plucked from my real life:
My almost-three-year-old daughter and I went to the park on a balmy Saturday evening (approximately 6 PM) because she had a lot of energy and I had a lot of rage. So we went to the park to deal with our excesses. We were the only parent-child pair at the park. The only other park guests present were three older “children” (about 21 years old, give or take) who were sitting languidly on the park bench at the edge of the play area.
When Sadie was ready to do her “climb up the slide backwards bit,” we were about 7 feet away from the other park people. That was when the overwhelming smell of POT wafted right up my nose– it was so strong I almost passed out. Sadie whiffed it too because she said, “I smell something.” I told her she was smelling special cigarettes made of plants that make people feel fluffy and want to eat lot of junk food. (Now that I think about it, it sounds like a description of motherhood generally.)
She ignored me.
I was too scared to report it because (1) Am I THAT old that I am busting kids for smoking pot in the park? (2) I was afraid they would kill me; and (3) I am so codependent that I want the pot-smoking kids in the park to think I am “cool.” Because what’s more badass that a mom with a broken butt hobbling around the park while being bossed around by her daughter?
I have an image, you know.
But seriously, no wonder their generation can’t get jobs. I am not talking about pot smoking because every generation does that and much worse. I am talking about the lack of judgment. Can you not wait until the sun goes down? Can they not go to the end of the park where there are less likely to be children? Like the section of the park where there is no slide or swings? I wondered if John Quinones was going to pop out and feature my chicken-shitted-ness on a 20/20 episode of “What Would You Do?” But, since he didn’t, I am featuring it here.
So I get to ask the question: What would you do?