I can feel the ostracization already and I’m fine with that

I took my kids to a birthday party. If there’s anything I like less than sitting in a park with a bunch of parents I don’t know, pretending that I share any of their interests, and that their snot-nosed kids are just adorable, I don’t know what it is. Now after typing that, I will admit that there are several of my kid’s friend’s parents that I genuinely do like. A lot. Of course I met them at some party or another, but with few exceptions, I don’t like other people. This is a general rule of thumb.

So at this party, which was agonizing, the hostess handed my son a goodie bag. The Bandit looked inside and pulled out a whistle. He didn’t glance my way, he simply held his palm out with the whistle laying on top and said to the mother, “Yeah, my mom won’t let me have this.”

I started to laugh because he’s absolutely right. He can’t have the whistle. Any mother who let’s a child in her house with a whistle deserves whatever torture she’s sure to get. The mother looked at me quizically and I shrugged and nodded in answer.

The Bandit peered back into the depths of the bag. “Is that a flashlight in here? She won’t let me have that either.”

Again, the mother didn’t answer. She looked at me and I nodded my head vigorously. The flashlight is even more forbidden than the whistle. A chronic migraine suffer such as myself doesn’t want a flashlight within a hundred yards of her. I live in fear of flashlights. Nothing insures a migraine faster than a bright flash of light right in the eyes.

I guess The Bandit can never aspire to a career as a cop – no flashlights and no whistles. I think I can live with that.

So I wouldn’t let my kids have half the crap in their goodie bags and I didn’t chat with the other moms. I tell you what – I leave a hell of an impression.