Old Mean Guy and the Wee

Last night we took Jack to a “for all ages family event”… that’s how it was billed. For all ages. All ages.

When we arrived Robby, Jack, and I were the only ones under 55 in the room. Seriously. Forty-five other people all over 55. (And most of them hadn’t seen their 50s for a good 20 years…)

The event was a musical lecture– a performance sprinkled with interactives and instruments and singing. We chose seats in the last row where Jacky could play with his little cars on the floor. While we waited for things to begin I reminded Jack that we had to be “very good listeners and very polite.” He nodded gravely and put his finger to his lips in the classic “shhhh” motion. And then went back to pushing his cars back and forth.

And that’s when the Old Mean Guy turned around to glare at our boy. Our sweet boy who was, for once, behaving perfectly. The lecture hadn’t started yet– the performer was still in the hallway chatting with the event coordinator. My son was quietly pushing his little cars around the floor and Old Mean Guy looks like he’s going to stroke out.

It reminds me of those people that freak out during the previews of movies… Robby and I once went to a showing of Dr. Zhivago where a tiny, angry Russian man stood up and announced, “There must be silence!” before whacking a woman on the head who crinkled her candy wrapper. BEFORE THE MOVIE STARTED.

We ignored Old Mean Guy. The performer entered the arena and took a sip of water. Jack’s little car went down his imaginary road and Old Mean Guy turned to glare again.

It occurred to me that perhaps Jack was making some noise only detectable by a hearing aid… some dog-like pitch that our ears couldn’t detect… Still, I was annoyed at this man’s reaction.

Five minutes into the performance Jack’s little car (silent to most of us non-superheros) once again caused Old Mean Guy to turn around in his chair. This time he was exaggerated and deliberate. His entire body exuded the idea that “my entire experience is being ruined because there is a small child in the room, albeit a small child that is behaving perfectly…” I looked at Robby who sighed and scooped up Jack to take him out. Jack, for his part, was indignantly surprised, “I don’t want to go!,” he cried. He burst into tears not understanding why he was being ejected when he’d been so good. I stayed to take the pictures I needed for work then slipped out, too.

It’s a dilemna. I have a healthy respect for older people… and a good amount of patience for small children who are still learning their way. I may have made the wrong choice in taking out Jack– honestly, I’m not sure. The dark side of me realized that in all probability Jack will have many more opportunities for cheesey musical lecture performances like this– Mean Old Guy will probably be dead in the next five years.

Sooner if there’s a small kid in the room.