Elon Musk’s son X taking centre stage in the Oval Office as his dad and The Donald batted off reporters’ questions was quite something. They always say never work with children and animals and this felt like a prime example.
As Elon got quizzed about whether he was orchestrating a hostile take-over of the administration, his four-year-old son started interrupting. As four-year-olds are wont to do –although not usually while happily picking their nose over the president’s desk.
It was hard to tell what Mr Trump thought, but I suspect he was less than impressed.
I have some sympathy with X. Who brings their kid to work in front of the world’s media? As always, it’s the parents I blame.
I mention the story because my current pet hate is mums and dads taking children somewhere else which is not always appropriate. Pubs.
I always remember as a child being forced to sit outside in the car park when my parents went to a pub. Come sun or Yorkshire rain. Or snow. At least I had a Coke and a packet of salt-and-shake crisps.
My parents’ view was clear. This is an adult place for adult chat, adult catch up, adult humour. Now modern pubs resemble creches.
My local has babies crawling across the floor and toddlers scrabbling through spilt bitter and dropped vapes, competing with a pet dog to get to a dropped piece of pork scratching first.
There’s bits of Lego scattered like shrapnel, a lost doll kicked under a table, cast off baby walkers, prams lined up outside the loos. It’s only a matter of time before formula milk is on tap.
Look, heaven knows, landlords have to do everything they can to keep going. And I’m full-square behind them (I also made it my mission to keep brewers afloat during Dry January).
But today’s parents seem so entitled. They genuinely believe their leisure time should not be impacted by their kids – and if it’s a pain for others, then tough. And while these parents blithely chat, their kids are wreaking havoc.
The only moment they show any interest is when their offspring traps a finger in a door or slips over in a puddle of Stella and thwumps their head on the tiled floor.
I’m a terrible person, but I find it hard to have sympathy, at least with the parents. I just hope that the experience is turning the youngsters into the pub drinkers of tomorrow.
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