The Trick was the Parents

I took Anthony out on Saturday to the little trick-or-treating thing they were doing in Ballard. When Nico had told me about it, I figured it'd be a nice casual stroll through a few shops, randomly asking polite shopkeepers for candy and having a nice relaxed time of it. Isn't my fantasy world nice? Too bad it was all in my head.
The reality was a nightmare clogging of bratty kids and annoying parents, with no place to turn around and assholes at every turn. By the time we were done, I felt like I had just run the Gladiator's gauntlet. Ugh, dealing with the tykes wouldn't have been so bad, though, had they all been orhpans. I got to see the reality of why people get irritated by parents so easily. Damn, those people suck!
The first annoyance was the ShutterBug parents. Those twits who obviously have an investment in the Kodak company, and have to take 5,000 pictures of little Johnny and his pillowcase walking out of a doorway (and heaven forbid the other 7 dozen children trying to get in the doorway be anywhere near that photo). Get a grip, people, you can take some great pictures of your kid at HOME in his costume, like the rest of us parents do. Or better yet, take pictures when you drag Johnny out tomorrow, when he really is trick or treating in your local neighborhood.
The second irritation was the Socializing Hens. Apparently the four days a week they blather at daycare or the playgroup isn't enough, they had to clog the walkways in their little gaggles. They're like the popular kid cliques from highschool, taking up space and making sure everyone sees it. Huge swarms of parents in clusters, leaving no room for the actual trick or treaters to walk by, and their own kids running sugar high circles into the ground around them. I've got an SUV sized stroller, and I swear ramming people's ankles at whim never seemed so appealing than that moment. What's worse is when they stare at you like you should have the audacity to want to get through them. And if you are going to dress up while out with your kids, then dress up. Don't do the half-assed, throw on a stupid Witch hat and think you are sexy bullshit.
My third and final parental irritation was just ridiculous, though. See, I figured with Anthony only being 17 months old, he'd be one of the youngest there. All he can really eat are the lollipops. But boy was I shocked to see people out with infants. And I'm talking like younger than 3 months old infants. For some reason all of them were in cow costumes (I'm assuming it was a Woman's Day conspiracy that led to the bovine obsession). Oh the irony that almost every mother of an infant out there was still hanging on to the ol' baby weight. I saw one raise an eyebrow at me, as I sat there thinking "your fat ass does not need that funsized snickers bar, because it sure ain't your baby that'll be eating them". My mommy body is a size six because I DON'T leap at the opportunity to stuff my face with sugar at any ridiculous chance. Do your stretched out denim a favour, bitch, skip the trick or treating until you can safely keep your pudgy paws out of the candy bucket. And back when Anthony was too young for his new found Dum Dum obsession, I didn't feel the need to traipse him around in a stupid cow getup in front of strangers.
And I made DAMN sure that when I did take my toddler out, I was taking out a kid who was in the early stages of politeness training. Anthony didn't try to grab the entire candy bowl and run, thus prompting a major meltdown (someone else's kid did, though!). Anthony was actually trying to share his candy. Anytime someone put a goody in his bucket, he'd reach in and try to give them a different one. Yes, it was insanly cute, and yes, I love bragging on him.
Ugh. Were there brats aplenty? Of course, no child-filled holiday would be complete without these reasons for abortion running around like maniacs. But if their parents are so hellishly annoying, you can't blame the kids. Yes, it's rude when an eight year old literally pushes your best friend's uber polite five year old out of the way to get to the candy bucket like it's going to be empty. But it's skincrawlingly irritating when it's the eight year old's dad who ploughed through everyone else just to get him that far. I hope his ankles are still tender.