Stay with me now, because it's time to admit there are some places that kids should not be allowed. Children from one to six are at that unique age when anything goes. Still small enough to be so cute that many parents overlook their behavior, even if affects others. Like that measuring stick at Six Flags that says “you’ve got to be this tall to ride”, we should have a method to restrict kids from participating in activities clearly meant for older, well-behaved humans, like sit-down restaurants or airplanes.  

A few days ago I was on a short airline flight that was completely full. There were lots of kids on the plane. Things went fine until we reached cruising altitude and the new wore off. Then the natives got restless. As I relaxed, with my eyes closed on the verge of sleep, I awoke to the steady tug on my shirt from between the seatbacks. I turned to see a small girl, just over a year I’d say, doing her best to pull any loose material from my shirt into the row behind me. She sat in her father’s lap, next to her mother, both of which watched with amusement. “Lily, stop that now”, the mother purred. “Sorry”, Dad chimed in, “She’s never met a stranger.” Uh-huh. Heaven forbid I say something about the child. That would be direct criticism of their parenting ability.  

By the way, what’s so cute about a single ribbon around a girl’s head that doesn’t have enough hair to make a ponytail, much less tie out of their face? 

By raising the arm rest, I made an effort to stop Lily’s probing fingers, but she continued to find the occasional bit of sleeve or tuft of hair to play with. With sleep not an option, I leaned forward and tried to concentrate on reading a paperback novel.  

That’s when I met Jordon.

Jordon was about four and unlike the rest of the passengers on this flight, Jordon thought it best to face backward and stare at me. He rested his two hands and small chin on the seatback till I looked at him. I didn’t want to look at him but I couldn’t help it. Once I did, that gave him license to start the famous “Now you see me, Now you don’t” game. If I resisted his advances, Jordon would bang on the seatback or make grunting noises. If he got too loud, his mother would say, “Jordon, turn around and sit down”, but her eyes never left the “Cosmo” magazine on her tray table. Some article about hitting the male “hot buttons”.

 

If I looked around, the businessman sitting across the isle would nod toward the boy, as if to say, “Don’t quit now, man.” Jordon continued this until we started our descent and the flight attendant made him buckle up. Thankfully it only lasted 45 minutes, as we were midway through the flight. 

Others on the plane experienced the same kind of reverse child abuse, I wasn’t the only one. But the cool thing about kids is that they can get away with that behavior. In fact, listening to the flight attendants drone on and on about how cute Lily was seemed to encourage it. I doubt the flight attendants would have thought it cute if I bobbed up and down and made grunting noises at the person sitting behind me. If, dressed in my cowboy hat and boots, I ran up and down the isle at will, it no doubt would have been labeled suspicious terrorist activity.

 

When the flight was over, Jordon not only had a good time, but he was presented a set of gold plastic wings and a handshake from the pilot for his splendid behavior. Most of us just got the cursory “Bye-Bye” from the flight attendant. I, on the other hand, left with my own form of reward…I picked up the unopened bag of bite-size pretzels left by the businessman across the isle from me.

 

Jordon's next plane seat

 

Next week, I might address mothers who take their kids to nice restaurants, let them sit at the bar and order fake cocktails.

 

-Steve