"Am I being Punk'd right now?" were the words from my husband as we sat at the pediatrician's office Thursday waiting for our daughter to be seen. Now we've all judged someone else's parenting skills both before we were parents ourselves as well as afterwards. Sometimes it might be - wow, they really know what they're doing, and sometimes it's - who the hell let this being procreate?! This particular experience would be of the latter brand.
First, for those that haven't had the experience already, I need to give a little background on the doctor's office visit in Europe. In the States when you take your child to a doctor it is usually in a larger building exclusively reserved for medical offices. Sometimes it might be part of a larger building that also houses other sorts of offices, but all businesses none the less. Here, many doctor's offices are within apartment buildings. Buildings are multi-purpose - put a storefront downstairs, an office above, and round it out with a floor of flats or two. So in you go to the flat that has been converted to the doctor's office, and there in front of you is the reception area, to the left one room has been converted to the lab area, another to the office area, and the third to a small waiting area. It was behind this third door that an evil lurked the likes of which have not been seen here on Earth for thousands of years.
Ok, maybe that's a bit strong, but seriously let me explain. We check in, and enter the cozy waiting area; which is full already. I take the last adult seat (chair), and Chris and Mairin head to the play table that is set up along one wall. A girl close in age to our daughter is already playing at the table. It becomes apparent that I am sitting next to her mother. Mairin picks a book off the shelf and hands it to Chris and climbs onto his lap to enjoy a story. The other girl walks over to Chris, who as opened the book, and rips it out of his hands. Ok, toddlers are toddlers, we all chuckle, and mom sitting next to me reprimands her half-heartedly. Mairin picks another book, girl does the same thing. Another book, same response. She is now looking Mairin face-to-face, they observe one another for a moment, then the little girl without warning grabs a handful of Mairin's hair and yanks. Anyone who has had their hair pulled before knows it hurts, but Mairin has a coiff of curls atop her dome that makes it nearly impossible to simply grab a hold and then let go. So now this little girls hand is stuck, so what is her answer, pull harder! Mom during this transaction, sitting in her chair next to me whisper-yelling a reprimand. Chris separates the two girls, and the mother reaches for her daughter and hits her hand for hurting another child. I'm not even going to comment on the fighting violence with violence here because it gets better. The little girl now comes over to me, and I am sitting with my legs crossed trying to process what has just gone down. Before I can fully comprehend, I feel something tugging at my shoe. She's trying to steal my shoes! I give her my best stern look and shake my head. She looks at her mother who again hits her hand for touching my shoes.
Mairin is still sitting looking worried over near Chris so I make my way over towards them to provide more of a protective screen for Mairin who already isn't too stoked about seeing a new doctor. I sit and begin to peruse a picture book with Mairin. The other little girl strolls over, and sits down next to us. She touches my shoulder and my face. Oh, I think, I have this kid all wrong, she just needs some positive attention. Suddenly, everything goes fuzzy. She has my damn glasses! Now here's the thing with this, once I take my glasses off I cannot see well enough to grab them back. Just as she is about to fling them, mom comes over and takes them from her and hands them to me. I thank her (in German), and receive no response. Little girl has her hands hit a third time for taking my glasses. Almost as soon as I have them situated on my face, she yanks at them again. This time I take them back almost immediately and tell her, "Nein!" She looks at me, puzzled, and then smacks me right in the back of the head. Mom now grabs her, smacks both hands, and tells her to sit in her chair and be quiet at which point her name is called and she leaves the waiting room. Says nothing to me. Nothing. Chris and I look at one another, I look at the other parents waiting, and I think we all think the same thing, "Are we being Punk'd?"
The best part is mom had another opportunity as we were all leaving to apologize, and nothing. It's not like we saw each other across a 12'x12' waiting room, we were all standing shoulder to shoulder putting coats and hats on. Would you apologize in this situation if your child had assaulted another child and parent?
