The Cone of Semi-Silence

Ah, how fondly I recall the days when I would glare at the adult(s) who in vain attempted (and failed) to quiet a group of young children.  When it came to airplanes, I would have been the first to sign up for "child-free" flights.  At the grocery store I would time it so as to meet up with the fewest possible screaming younglings (ever been to a Jewel at midnight?  It's a good time).  And without a doubt if I saw a large mass of them heading toward me on the street, I would snort and quickly change my route.  Screaming kids suck.  Or so I used to believe.

Oh, no--I'm not saying that I now approve of disputes held at the hightest possible decible range with tiny people who have as much logic as Joan Rivers.  I'm saying that I simply no longer notice it most of the time.  I'm serious.  It's like a large cone of silence has cut me off from all forms of voiciferous children.  I rarely even notice it.  On the few occasions when I do happen to tune in to a tantrum of epic proportions, I feel a massive amount of pity (usually for the child) and simply go on about my business.  But quite seriously, 9 out of 10 times, I really no longer notice.  It's like the powers that Be handed me and many other parents a lovely pair of earmuffs at the birth of our children.

These particular earmuffs are selective, however.  While taking away the ability to notice a plea being made by a child (because Timmy REALLY needs that knife you have in your hand), the earmuffs amplify other noises.  For example, I can hear ambulances from approximately 22.5 blocks away.  The reasoning behind this superhearing is to be able to hold one's breath and begin to pray that the baby doesn't wake.  I can also, by further example, hear judgmental comments regarding my parenting made anywhere within a 5 state area.  I think this one is a result of my own doubts, as opposed to actually serving any purpose other than increasing my blood pressure.  Regardless, the parental earmuffs are magical things of wonder.

And so, the next time you are sitting in a Starbucks and you see a man frantically pulling a screaming toddler out the door as he looks around with embarrassment, assume that he is either kidnapping the child or is divorced with visitation rights.  And when you see a mother looking slightly resigned while her Katie throws herself with grandeur to the floor at the dry cleaners', instead of thinking "why doesn't she do something," cut her some slack and chalk it up to the earmuffs.  And be wary of commenting about her under your breath.  Even if you are blocks away.  She'll hear you.  It's the earmuffs.