The Dirtys

Teenage Teenage Problem Child

scum stats: six different versions, some on colored vinyl, some as few as three copies, a bunch of repressings, jeez, you forget how many copies an independent punk single could sell back in '99

Paternity leave finds me at the indoor playground today. It's in a massive, faith-based building that may or may not have higher-ups who were convicted of murder. But that's besides the point.

My middle daughter is set to tear UP this massive four-level play structure. Winding slides, bulbous plastic peepholes, nets and obstacles...this place is pure excitement.

At one point, this kid walks in. I regrettably judge him, solely on his haircut. It's a hard bowl cut with shaved sides. Something like this... (see attached image)

I felt crummy even having the thought of "this kid looks like trouble." Who am I to judge? What is my judgement even based on? Can't a haircut just be a damn haircut and have nothing attached to it? Where do I get off? Who in the hell do I think I am? Clearly I need to be more mature. I mentally shift gears and go back to chasing around my daughter.

After a few slides, she waddles over to me and I notice she has a sock missing. Oh man...not good. These weren't just any socks...mom SPECIFICALLY outfitted her with these grip-bottom Airborne Trampoline Park beauties for maximized indoor play traction. I could NOT return home one sock short. That would sour the rest of the day. And I still had early voting to do.

I start asking my daughter if she could go into the structure and find her sock. Tall order for a two-year-old, truth be told. I doubt she even knew the sock was missing. I look a little myself, but am too proud to actually climb into the massive structure and go too in-depth.

Fortunately, another parent stopped me and said, "Excuse me, did you say you were looking for a sock?" After replying "yes" to her she said "there's a kid running around who seems to have one."

I crane my neck trying to put eyes on him, but seriously, losing kids here is easier than losing the lottery. When I finally spot a child matching the description I was given, sure enough, he had a gray/orange Airborne sock...in his mouth. It was the kid with the haircut.

I got close to him and in my most polite, deferential tone, said "excuse me buddy, can I please get my daughter's sock back?" No response. Ok. Maybe he didn't hear me. I then lock eyes with him and clearly, succinctly, audibly, repeat my request. He stares back at me, laughs, and scales the structure with the agility and quickness of a ring-tailed lemur.

Woooooweeeee. I actually just stood there and had to laugh.

The slide eventually spits out haircut with me waiting right there. I briefly try again to engage him, but sensing he's looking for a confrontation, I just grab the sock out of his mouth before more kids land on top of him into a tangle of arms and legs and innocent toddler-style rough and tumble.

The sock was SOPPING wet. Like he'd been purposefully drooling into it. I took the dry sock and wrapped it around the damp one and we made our exit.

Trust your instincts? I don't know. I just hope haircut doesn't turn into a teenage problem child.