The Greatest Gift

The I-Pod FM transmitter that Baby gave me for Father's Day was a great gift.

The Tiger Woods PGA Tour 08 for Nintendo Wii that The Girls gave me for Father's Day was a greater gift. (It's also the reason why I didn't post this until the Thursday after Father's Day. I've been busy...at Pebble!)

But the greatest gift I received this Father's Day came not from MY family, but from a family of strangers sitting behind me in a movie theater. The greatest gift I received was the gift of moral superiority. That's one you don't need the receipt for, kids.

By now you've probably guessed out the set-up: I'm with The Girls in a movie theater, having just forked over the cash equivalent of Ukraine's GDP for the privilege of spending 90 minutes in the dark with strangers and junk food. The trailers end. The lights dim. Fade In.

Wait! What's that noise behind me?

Is it a cell phone? No. I can't dance to it.

Is it a candy wrapper? No. I don't have the urge to hurl a knife towards the noise in hopes of...well...helping to cut open the candy wrapper, of course.

Is it labored breathing through a gaping pie-hole that has been hazardously jammed to capacity with butter-flavored cud? No. As a natural defense mechanism, my pores seep a protective sheen of Purell whenever the threat of someone violating the "Say It, Don't Spray It" article of the Geneva Conventions comes within a six-foot radius of my personal space. That wasn't happening.

Oh! I know that sound! It's an infant...wailing! How did he get in here? He's not even tall enough to reach the buttons on the Fandango kiosk! Man, that kid is good!

Oh. He didn't come in alone, did he? His parents brought him. How thoughtful.

I hate them.

You see, when Baby and I decided to have The Girl, we knew we would have to make sacrifices in all aspects of our lives: from personal and professional to financial and social. One of those sacrifices involved ending our weekly jaunts to the movies. We knew that without a sitter (add Guam's GDP to the above price tag), movies were not an option. When we had The Girl II, The Girl I was big enough to go to the movies. But while the dynamic changed, the dilemma didn't. The Girl II was too young to go the movies, so one of us would go with The Girl I while the other stayed home with The Girl II.

If we had brought either of The Girls-as-Infants to the movies, we would have negatively impacted the movie-going experience of the other 298 people around us simply because (at best) we foolishly thought that The Girls-as-Infants would have remained asleep despite the sound system having been cranked to 11, or (at worst) we just didn't care. And there's where my hatred comes screaming in like a hawk, followed by, on the wings of doves, my moral superiority.

Why the former? Because people actually do this today. Why the latter? Because I never did such a thing. Neither did Baby. We never even considered it. We never once thrust either of The Girls-as-Infants into a situation that could have ruined it for others. We were better than that. We were...and still are...morally superior, because we were...and still are...considerate of others at the simplest and basest of levels.

As for the idiots behind me, and this applies to any other parents reading this who have done the same thing, I ask: At what point in the planning stage did one of you say, "But what if the baby gets too loud in the theater?" And at what point in the planning stage did the other one say, "Who cares?"

Actually, one answer satisfies both questions. Simply label yourself as being patently stupid, to which I will respond with, "Oh. That." I will then direct you to the nearest Miss Manners column.
Not up for looking in the mirror? Maybe your response is, "Screw you. We'll do what we damn well please, and if that ruins your time, that's your problem, not ours. Why should we have to miss out on going to the movies as a family unit on Father's Day?"

To that, I will, on your behalf, counter by labeling you as patently stupid. I will follow-up with, "Because that's what you signed up for when you had kids, you moron. You give up the small things like going to the movies - which is not a permanent sacrifice, by the way - and in return you get the great joy that your child brings you...EVERY DAY!" Is it really that hard to figure out?

I guess it is...when you're patently stupid.

Thanks for the ego boost, family of strangers behind me. To express my gratitude, I can recommend a babysitter.