The Girl in the PlayPlace
Every once in a while, as a special treat, Rian takes little people to MacDonald's for dinner and a romp about the forest of sticky tunnels and crumb ridden slides the restaurant calls a 'PlayPlace.' I have seen SUPERSIZE THAT, so Rian knows such an outing is not exaclty healthy, but as an Unusual Occurance, Rian allows it.
We went last week, for a late dinner.
The restaurant was fairly crowded, and the PlayPlace full of children and adults of various sizes, ages, and states of mind.
We ate. Little people ran stripped off shoes and dashed off to play. Rian opened a book.
There was a child running about, a curly haired, dark complected girl of six or seven, accompanied by a grey haired man who looked to be perhaps her grandfather. They sat next to Rian and Rian's book.
The Grandfather grumbled. He grumbled about the little girl's manners (which were, Rian admits, sorely lacking), he grumbled about the child's energy (which was boundless), and he grumbled about the food.
"Where's my drink?" The girl demanded.
"Go and get your own!" Grandfather growled. "How should I know what you wanted?"
Rian thought this was a rather odd and rude remark for a parent or caretaker, but then, Rian is over sensitive. The child went and got her drink. She came back. She grabbed her Happy Meal(tm) and started to take it up into the tunnels.
"Rebecca!" Grandfather screamed. "NO food in the playground. Get back here." And when she ignored him: "REBECCA!"
He was loud. He got some looks, including one from Rian. Rebecca took the food up the slide. Grandfather sat and ate and loudly mumbled about the child's bad behavior.
Time passed. Rian's book got interesting. Rebecca appeared from nowhere, and grabbed her drink from Grandfather's table. She ran off with it. Grandfather swore. Predictably, she spilled the drink all over the floor and, predictably, she slipped and went down hard.
Rebecca did not cry. Grandfather stood up, walked over, and bellowed in her face. "Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! I told you that would happen!"
"Enough," Rian said as Rebecca slipped her grandfather's hold and dashed off, leaving wet footprints behind on the floor.
Grandfather shot Rian a look and went back to his dinner. Rian lowered book and watched Rebecca. She was obviously a...Task...and it appeared her dinner companion was either too lazy or too helpless to handle her energy. But I did not like how he yelled at her.
More time passed. Rian read with occasional breaks for Aidan smiles. Aidan took to Rebecca, and so did several other children. They ran in a pack, up and down, tussling and then making up again.
Perhaps an hour later Grandfather decided it was time to go home.
"Rebecca! Now!"
Rebecca, of course, ignored the command. So did most of the other parents. One call very rarely bring a child from Fun.
The next time Rian looked up from George R.R. Martin, Grandfather had Rebecca grasped about her upper arms and was pounding her against the bars of the PlayFort.
"Now! Now! Now!" He screamed. Rebecca still did not cry.
Rian got up. So did several other parents. One woman grabbed her mobile.
"Let go of her now," the woman said, "or I'm calling CPS."
"You bitch!" Grandfather yelled, and THEN Rebecca started to cry.
The woman started dialing. Rian went to the restaurant door to grab Management.
Grandfather picked up Rebecca and dragged her from the restaurant, leaving behind not only their food, but Rebecca's pink purse and her shoes.
"I never should have brought you here!"
We let them go. What else does one do? The plate number was written down, and given to CPS. The other children in the room were massed in a confused huddle.
Aidan clung to Rian's hand and asked, "Bad man, mama?"
The pink purse still sat on the table when we left.
Rian felt frightened for the child. But why did I have such dangerously mixed feelings where Grandfather was concerned?
We went last week, for a late dinner.
The restaurant was fairly crowded, and the PlayPlace full of children and adults of various sizes, ages, and states of mind.
We ate. Little people ran stripped off shoes and dashed off to play. Rian opened a book.
There was a child running about, a curly haired, dark complected girl of six or seven, accompanied by a grey haired man who looked to be perhaps her grandfather. They sat next to Rian and Rian's book.
The Grandfather grumbled. He grumbled about the little girl's manners (which were, Rian admits, sorely lacking), he grumbled about the child's energy (which was boundless), and he grumbled about the food.
"Where's my drink?" The girl demanded.
"Go and get your own!" Grandfather growled. "How should I know what you wanted?"
Rian thought this was a rather odd and rude remark for a parent or caretaker, but then, Rian is over sensitive. The child went and got her drink. She came back. She grabbed her Happy Meal(tm) and started to take it up into the tunnels.
"Rebecca!" Grandfather screamed. "NO food in the playground. Get back here." And when she ignored him: "REBECCA!"
He was loud. He got some looks, including one from Rian. Rebecca took the food up the slide. Grandfather sat and ate and loudly mumbled about the child's bad behavior.
Time passed. Rian's book got interesting. Rebecca appeared from nowhere, and grabbed her drink from Grandfather's table. She ran off with it. Grandfather swore. Predictably, she spilled the drink all over the floor and, predictably, she slipped and went down hard.
Rebecca did not cry. Grandfather stood up, walked over, and bellowed in her face. "Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! I told you that would happen!"
"Enough," Rian said as Rebecca slipped her grandfather's hold and dashed off, leaving wet footprints behind on the floor.
Grandfather shot Rian a look and went back to his dinner. Rian lowered book and watched Rebecca. She was obviously a...Task...and it appeared her dinner companion was either too lazy or too helpless to handle her energy. But I did not like how he yelled at her.
More time passed. Rian read with occasional breaks for Aidan smiles. Aidan took to Rebecca, and so did several other children. They ran in a pack, up and down, tussling and then making up again.
Perhaps an hour later Grandfather decided it was time to go home.
"Rebecca! Now!"
Rebecca, of course, ignored the command. So did most of the other parents. One call very rarely bring a child from Fun.
The next time Rian looked up from George R.R. Martin, Grandfather had Rebecca grasped about her upper arms and was pounding her against the bars of the PlayFort.
"Now! Now! Now!" He screamed. Rebecca still did not cry.
Rian got up. So did several other parents. One woman grabbed her mobile.
"Let go of her now," the woman said, "or I'm calling CPS."
"You bitch!" Grandfather yelled, and THEN Rebecca started to cry.
The woman started dialing. Rian went to the restaurant door to grab Management.
Grandfather picked up Rebecca and dragged her from the restaurant, leaving behind not only their food, but Rebecca's pink purse and her shoes.
"I never should have brought you here!"
We let them go. What else does one do? The plate number was written down, and given to CPS. The other children in the room were massed in a confused huddle.
Aidan clung to Rian's hand and asked, "Bad man, mama?"
The pink purse still sat on the table when we left.
Rian felt frightened for the child. But why did I have such dangerously mixed feelings where Grandfather was concerned?
posted by La Tulipe | 4:02 PM
4 Comments:
Holy hell! I can't believe that!
What sort of person treats a child like that? I don't care if they're a handful...
Awful! I think it is easy to understand that someone can have not enough energy for a child, or be short tempered and cranky... but outright mistreatment is hideous to see.
That kind of sight fills me with seething rage. Indeed, some children are handfuls and their behaviour leaves much to be desired, but it seems likely this little girl has had no role model at all.
I hope she is looked after. People like that need to be stopped... if things haven't escalated already, they're bound to.
Greets to the webmaster of this wonderful site. Keep working. Thank you.
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