I Hate My Friend’s Kids

by Cranky Guest

Cranky In NYC

I know it’s bad but I truly hate my friend’s kids.

There’s the bad manners duo. While mine sits at the table eating and conversing, her duo of little lady monsters stand on their seats, throw food on the ground and the worst…SHE LETS THEM RUN AROUND THE RESTAURANT. WTF.

I’m left gritting my teeth and whispering to my son that if he dares play tag in between the dim sum diners, dodging the rolling carts of steamy buns that he’s “as dead as the Peking duck.”

Then there’s the friend with the whiners. Those kids are always cold. Or hungry. Or can’t walk anymore their feet hurt SO MUCH. They don’t like their lunch or their ice cream is too messy and their hands are uncomfortably sticky. Their backpacks are always too heavy.

We’ve got the mom I adore but her plucky kid annoyingly eats two portions of $17 crispy octopus tentacle tapas at brunch (aka Mr. Pokémon card cheater.)

Can’t forget the super hyper braggy son of the mom-I-don’t-really-click-with-but-she’s-part-of-the-clique makes me want to strangle him when I get stuck driving him to “vacation camp.” (That’s a whole other post.)

Maybe it’s Me. LOL. It’s definitely them.