Dylan tried to have lunch with the kids at Elizabeth's school yesterday but they were having bean burritos and he almost had an aneurysm instead.
None of my kids are very keen on the Mexican food, least of all burritos. They can tolerate tortillas and might munch on a quesadilla, but they shun tacos, enchiladas and salsa. They don't even like my special secret recipe guacamole which I make fresh from scratch. They're strange.
After his rather unflattering display of temper, I thought it was best if Dylan left the classroom. So we went to McDonalds for lunch. Burritos are gross, but fried up nuggets of chicken are delicious.
Of course, we went to the McDonalds that has a Playland. And of course there were little jerkoff kids playing there with their jerkoff moms doing their very best to NOT supervise them at all.
McDonalds is promoting the new Madagascar movie right now, and you get a plastic animal toy with your Happy Meal. Dylan got a funny penguin. These jerkoff kids each got the zebra.
As Dylan went to join them in playing the bad kids were taking turns throwing their toys up the slide of the Playland. I cautioned Dylan that if he were to even CONSIDER throwing his toy, I'd take it away from him and we've leave McDonalds immediately.
He never even dared to dream of throwing that toy. These other kids though...
Every five minutes or so one of the jerkoff moms would snap to reality and realize that she had just been listening to five minutes of her jerkoff kid hucking a plastic toy up a plastic slide. Quite loud.
"Do not throw that toy!" the mom would yell...then go back to her very interesting conversation...which was actually not that interesting at all. Yes, I eavesdropped. Ben is not a great lunch companion. Not much to say that one.
Anyway. The kids would stop throwing the toys for about 2 seconds, then start again, and five minutes later...you get the point.
I was getting pretty freaking irritated. And I was getting a headache from the damn racket!
Then...I hear my son crying. OH HELL NO! It's on!
I go over there and Dylan is crying "No no! Don't hurt me! I'm just Dylan!"
And the little jerkoff kid has the zebra in his hand, arm cocked back, ready to throw it at my son's head. Again.
OH HELL TO THE NO!
I said "Hey! That's not very nice. You shouldn't be throwing your toys around."
As I brought Dylan back to the table one of the moms came over to her kid and said "That not nice, someone could get hurt."
Uh, someone DID get hurt you dumb idiot.
Of course, as soon as the mom walked away, the kids resumed throwing the toys. Little bastards.
I was about two minutes away from punching one of those kids or one of their moms, so we left McDonalds and headed back to Elizabeth's school.
I parked at the library and we walked around the block and up the hill to her school...this is because one of the girls in her class asked me yesterday morning if I had another baby in my belly.
Whah! I seriously wanted to cry.
Anyway...we picked up Elizabeth and were walking back to the car. I asked Dylan...
"How do you spell your name?"
"My name is Dylan! I'm Dylan!"
"Yeah, I know, but how do you spell Dylan?"
Dylan shouted "P-O-I-S!"
"No buddy. D-Y-L-A-N."
He repeated the letters after me.
"That spells Dylan. How do you spell Dylan?"
He shouted "P-O-I-S! P-O-I-S!!"