A Most Odious Child
“Come over here,” PP could barely hear the mother’s soft plea by the mirror, "and look how cute you are!"
“I DON’T WANT TO LOOK CUTE!!!” The Most Odious Child screeched. And at this point, PP had to laugh.
The MOC had been screaming, crying, and coughing for the entire time (about 20 minutes) that PP had been trying to get changed.
She was tired, it being a Friday evening after a long day in Unpleasant Hill. The air in her office had given her a sore throat and headache, so much so, that she’d thought she was coming down with something.
But she’d forced herself to go for a swim, telling herself how it would make her feel better. As it always does.
And it had.
Until the Most Odious Child had entered her Locker Room Reality.
When the child had first been crying, PP had thought, Okay, It’s tired and hungry and wet. It just needs to get home and be put to bed.
This is something that mystifies PP: why the hell are these small children swimming and screaming at the YMCA at 9:30 at night? Obviously, they’re not happy. They’re tired and whiny in the best of circumstances and Hellish and Odious in the worst.
MOC was just revving up. “I TOLD YOU I DON’T WANT TO DO THAT! WHY DID YOU....” Then some coughing and crying interrupted the Refusal. PP heard The Mom murmuring, but couldn’t make out her speech. She was so quiet. So calm.
PP has to wonder about this too. How is it that parents can just blithely go along, letting their children screech to their hearts' contents in the women’s locker room without blinking an eye? It’s like they have NO clue that the child is practicing Advanced Odiousity.
Must be nice, PP thinks as she cringes with the next wave of Screaming Protests, “I WON’T DO THAT! I DON’T LIKE YOU! YOU CAN’T MAKE ME!!!!”
And the then clincher with “I DON’T WANT TO LOOK CUTE!”
PP was in the mirrored area during this last assertion. And she had to agree. MOC did NOT look cute. He was a sniveling, miserable, Red Nosed Monster. And sure, maybe he was dressed cutely in his little navy shorts and striped shirt, his dark brown hair cut neatly over his big blue eyes.
No fucking way.
“He must be tired,” PP tried to half-heartedly commiserate with Valium Mom, who just gave PP a serene smile and nodded, before turning to fill a cup of water for the screeching child. “Here, Honey, have some water.”
For an instant MOC eyed PP, his eyes bright with malice. Then he swiveled round to eye the outstretched cup of water, before raising his fat little fist and knocking it out VM’s grasp.
“OH!” she cried, “That was not a nice thing to do!” the water splashing in an arc toward the open door.
MOC smirked, and then gave PP a very naughty grin, before dashing out of the locker room with VM in resigned pursuit.