Little Brats

Last week I had the great pleasure to spend some time with my 3 1/2-year old niece - and, as I love her and she's mine, she's of course not in any way associated with "little brats". OTHER people's kids are little brats. And it was interacting with them that made me realize I automatically assume as such.

Kara and I enjoyed some time in the sunshine at the park. While Kara climbed on the playground apparatus, I sat on the retaining wall around the edge. At one point, a 5-year-oldish-looking boy walked along the wall right up to me, I think even stubbing me with his feet, and said "Uh oh!". The boy had apparently decided he was a train, and from his ramble it appears he believed he was some sort of 'ghost train', and here I was sitting on the track he was traveling around. I think the boy assumed with his "uh oh", standing right on top of me, and the explanation of the ghost train's needs, I would of course get off the track and let him proceed.

It struck me later what it says about me that I didn't get up. It would have taken a modicum of effort to stand up, lift my purse and Kara's sweatshirt from the wall next to me, and let this little boy pass. But still, I held my ground, listened to the boy's incomprehensible story, and waited for him to give up. I don't know if I would have stood up for Kara - probably. I would have thought her using the wall as a train track was incredibly cute and likely would have been recording the whole thing.

Somehow my refusal to stand and the extended interaction it caused between us led this kid to believe I was playing with him. When I crossed paths with him later, checking on a 'whooops' trip that caused Kara to cry and need a hug but of course not to stop playing, the little boy stopped me by physically grabbing my hand and proceeded to regale me for five minutes with tales of Power Rangers and something that sounded like Tai Chi. If this had been a guy in a bar, I would have used my best "I have no desire to talk to you" stare of disinterest, but as it was a 5-year old, I felt obligated to "um hmm" and "oh, really?" and fake my way through understanding and caring what he had to say.

He was a decent kid and probably thinking of him as a little brat is a bit harsh, but that he had the gall to assume I would move for HIM? And that I should listen to HIM babble? It's not the sort of behavior I enjoy in adults and I think I apply the same standards to little kids (except for my darling, precious, never wrong Kara). Or I'm just a jerk, which is sort of how I felt when I thought back to my refusal to get out of the ghost train's way.