Okay, I'm Prejudiced

One of the pleasures of summer vacation is my ability to sit out on my front porch with my breakfast and the paper edition of the New York Times. Usually I position my chair so that I can't see the monstrous rich-people houses across the street.

But over the weekend The Heir and The Fair both came for Father's Day, and we all sat out on the porch (it's big) at a social distance. So my favorite chair is still turned so it faces sideways, and I can see across the street.

This morning, as I was taking my tea, I saw the 3-year-old across the street shove down his pajama pants, whip out his junk, and piss on the flower bed. Now, I know, kids will be kids. But there were two adults on the porch, and they ignored the kid and just let his actions pass without any comment.

Yeah, kids will be kids. But there are fucking 5 bathrooms in that house. How far from the front door can one of them be?

When I notice at all, I am aware that a certain permissiveness pervades both new households across the street, but especially the one where the kid was watering the flowers.

Again -- little boys (never girls ... need I say more?) sometimes do such things. And adults can be indulgent. But they should have said something. I mean, gently?

But this is symbolic of what this little white boy with 5 bathrooms is going to grow up to be. He won't have to challenge authority, because he will be the authority. What he wants to do, he'll do. He's yet another Future Kavanaugh of America.

And yes, I am deeply prejudiced against his family. I hear the parents work hard. If they do, it's not in a meat-packing plant.

Oh yeah, it was the kid's 3rd birthday last week, and the parents paid to have their whole front porch swathed in balloons, some of which came loose and wound up in my yard. No big deal, right? Except shouldn't they pick up after themselves? Do you let your trash blow across your neighbor's yards?

Eat. The. Rich.