Family Man®: Fine Whining

By Gregory Keer

I've spent a lifetime practicing and teaching tolerance. But I can't deny myself this one shred of prejudice. I hate people who don't like to be around children.

It all began with my first child, nine years ago. As I proudly strolled with Benjamin, I reveled in the smiles he elicited from onlookers. On the occasions when someone would not crack a grin, I'd think, "How cuteness-challenged do you have to be to ignore my little angel?"

Unfortunately, I've learned that too many grown-ups don't get it. While I know my brood of three sons can create chaos, I'm disturbed by people who can't be melted by my kids' sweetness and laughter. It galls me when adults who attend matinees of animated films "shush" my boys for asking innocent questions like, "Is that lion nice?" I want to fire back at these people, "Aren't you the ones in the wrong place?"

One recent Sunday night, my family sat down at an Indian eatery for a 5 p.m. dinner. The food took ages to arrive and while we waited, our kids got antsy.

"I'm staaarving! … I want to color! … Can I lie down on your lap," our children pouted. We pacified them with moderate success, but the party of middle-aged adults behind us was unconvinced that we were doing enough to make their dining experience genteel.

We overheard one of the women say, "It's rude for them to bring their children here. It's bothering everyone."

This put us on edge because we try to be good citizens in a society that feels children should not act their age unless they are on a playground or in a rodent-themed pizza-arcade.

Then, little Ari (not yet 2 at the time) chose to whine at a decibel that, to us, was quite normal. He didn't like his high chair, nor did he much care for his chicken vindaloo.

At this point, another woman in the grumpy group said, "Where's the waiter? We need to move."

The foursome did transfer booths, but they continued griping to the service staff so noticeably that we felt compelled to hurry our children through their meal.

On our way out, I vented to these sour people, "What did you expect us to do?"

Curling her lip, one woman said, "You should have taken your child out of the restaurant."

Steaming, I fired back, "This is a community that includes families. And this is the family dinner hour. If you'd wanted a nice quiet time, you could have waited until 8 p.m."

Unimpressed by my argument, the other woman said, "We obviously disagree."

Unable to respond, I was saved by another father, who was just sitting down with his already crying toddler. He said, with a conspiratorial smile, "Don't worry, we'll take care of them."