Parents Really Don’t Do Jack Shit These Days

Do they think their kids come shrink-wrapped in perfect factory form? Cause they sure as hell don’t.

Made with Midjourney

I told the tale of the Ravaging Ice Cream Brat a few years ago in my article/rant against sugar and obesity. But I’ll briefly tell it again here.

I was in Wal-Mart waiting in line at the return counter for some stupid reason I forget. While there, I saw a kid who looked nine or ten years old or so and his mom waiting in line. Well, the mom was in line. The kiddo, who was adorned in baggy sweat clothes and looked like a pile of laundry sprung to life, was sprawled out on the one bench, legs spread, one hand fiercely smashing virtual buttons on his smartphone. And whining. Whining, whining, whining about being hungry. So he goes to his mom and begs for a snack. She, without even looking, as though she were spreading bread crumbs for an obnoxious park pigeon, digs into a box of freaking ice cream sandwiches and hands her offspring one of them. The kid tears it open and returns to the bench. All the while his stupid phone game jingles and jangles as he plays it with one hand while stuffing his face with the other.

Now, I don’t think this is an overreaction, but I wanted to punt that kid across the room for acting like that. I stood there in awe watching the…