Brats 1 Parents 0

Got time for a story ? Fill up the coffee cup...by the way, I am playing "Take me to the River" the Talking Heads version as I write this...you might want to listen to it as I tell this story...

We spent our last day of the summer at the pool today...they close tomorrow. Sad isn't it? Pool closes, sun sets earlier, school starts etc...

It wouldn't have been half bad if I didn't have to listen to the continuous drama of Evan the Terrible.

Evan is a boy about 7 or 8 years old. Yet he exhibits the manipulative screaming skills of the most experienced fishwife.

And by the by, why is it that every kid I ever met named Evan turned out to be the spawn of Satan?

Take me to the river, drop me in the water...sing along with me , come on work with me here....

Evan was screaming all day in the pool at the top of his lungs, screaming "I hate you Dad!" "I will kill you" and and other fine platitudes.

We all had to listen to Evan, Evan crying, Evan screaming, Evan controlling, Evan getting Evan's way, Evan every teacher's nightmare, Evan I will destroy the first woman I marry, Evan the therapist's wet dream, Evan disrupting the rest of every one's nice Sunday at the pool.

His father told him to be quiet.

We all prayed for that, but Evan, likeness-of-Lucifer-heir-to-Beelzebub's-kingdom-supreme -pain-in-the-psyche, never shut up, noooooo, nooooo, Evan just got louder.

His father threatened to take him home, several times.

Once again we all prayed that it would actually happen.

They stayed until 7:30pm.

Take me to the river, drop me in the water....singing, we are singing...

His father's threats were empty, he never followed through on them, you see, Evan already had that advanced knowledge, Dad never follows through, that is the freedom which fuels this little country club terrorist.

He said things to his father that made everyone cringe (cringing in the deep end my dears), and in my mind I know that if I had ever acted like that, no wait, even THOUGHT about acting like that to my father, they would've been scraping me off the pool floor.... I say that metaphorically, no need to call social services.

Later, at home, I made sure to give my son a big hug... so happy we didn't name him Evan... so happy that he feels loved and he doesn't feel the emptiness that creates an unhappy Evan from the pool.

Take me to the river, washing me down, washing me down... people, we are still singing here....

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