Gloves Off

I don't truly dislike all that many people. I will rationalize bad behavior on almost anyone except my neighbors' part, indefinitely. Getting all lathered up about some sub-human is just not worth my time.

Unless that person is a recidivist (say it together: "repeat offender!"). Unless that person continues to piss me off over an extended period of time. Unless that person is truly and utterly a dick.

Take, for instance, a woman whose children attended the same co-op preschool as Leelo last year. Co-op in this case means we parents worked alongside each other in the classroom. It means I spent far too much time with this woman, silently repeating to myself, "We don't hit or bite other people. Hitting hurts. Biting hurts."

I have never met a more pompous, opinionated, unsympathetic person in my life. We all know people like her: competent, well-organized, humorless, and honestly, vocally flabbergasted by people with different approaches to life. Dicks.

She went on my list within five minutes of my meeting her, when Leelo was barely two years old and had no interest in drinking from an open cup. She took one look at him, and, with slightly lowered eyelids, let me know that her kids have always drunk from open cups, because sippy cups just prolong an awkward stage of development. Bitch!

Her remarks were always delivered in the most righteous tone imaginable. She knew that Iz was at a Montessori, but even so took over a parent meeting with a tirade against so-called "academic" preschools, going into great detail about how she would never put her children in such a soul-draining environment, and how parents who did that to their children were just...so...wrong!

I always derived a certain amount of satisfaction from the fact that she looks like a skinny little frog. A frog whose head you've just stepped on, really hard.

But even telling myself she was the ugliest fucking thing I'd ever seen couldn't get me over the things she'd say. She'd say them in cases when even her fellow dickheads would have known better, such as right after Leelo had been diagnosed, and I'd let the class know what was up with him. Then she still had snide things to say about his difficulties in sitting still during snack time.

I was sad to have to leave the school so that we could concentrate on Leelo's ABA program. But I was ecstatic at the thought of never having to see her again.


She was sitting in the audience during the Esperanza school orientation this afternoon.

(cue Theme From Psycho violins...)


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