PB takes swimming lessons at my gym with his friend C two afternoons a week. Each day, it's an exhausting task trying to get them not to storm through the place, run other people over, and generally create havoc. The long, long hallways are just so inviting for racing, jumping, crawling on the ground like spiders.
But we try--and I mean really try--not like those parents who give half-hearted attempts at control. And sometimes we're successful. Sometimes, not so much.
Today on the way in was one of those days. They ran ahead of us, and unfortunately, in front of a British woman. They got stopped at the gate, because you can't go in without scanning your hand or a badge.
Somehow those taking badges thought the two terrors were with the Brit. She made it quite clear they were not. I tried to joke about it, and said, "I'm sure she's thanking God, they're not hers," ha, ha.
"THEY have nothing to do with me," was her response as she trotted off.
Rude, yes? But then again, the manners of the very dynamic duo certainly weren't on point either. So I guess it's a draw.
And really, before I had children, I'm sure--no, I know!--I was one of those smug singles who knew I would never in a million years allow a child of mine to act like...well, mine.