Kids are the fucking worst.

I was the arcade hbic at a Dave& Buster's. They usually had me scheduled by myself in the morning to get shit done without anyone around. Well we had a family group come in one afternoon, and with the arcade almost empty you can imagine what the smaller children tended to do. I told one, you need to stop running around and screaming you're going to hurt yourself. Not ten minutes later little homie ran straight in between a "hit the button as hard as you can" game and another child about twice his size.

I accept that I am a terrible person, but that shit was funny af.

If you take a little kid to a restaurant you are responsible for either entertaining them enough to sit, or taking them for a little walk during the waiting periods. If you also brought your inlaws, that walk is a win-win.

It's also a good idea to have them "help" you cut up their food, as much to keep their hands busy as to teach them how to use utensils. If you really want to stretch it out, because they eat fast and then get bored again, have them "help" cut yours as well.

I feel the same when adults are talking the most disgusting shit around me in public. They don't get the hate kids do, though.

And sometimes it even has nothing to do with me sticking my foot out when they run by...........

About kneed a small boy in the face the other day. Him and his brother were chasing each other are the store at top speed and missed me by one inch. If I had been standing still the little fucker would have lost some teeth.

Didn't they invent drive-thru's, takeout and DoorDash for people with kids? Ta-da!

I already awarded a different thing my first laugh of the day, but I like this one more.

The source of my dark sense of humor is largely my father joking that crying kids should get smacked in restaurants. It went like this (two different voices):

"Somebody smack that kid…" I'll do it!

Made me laugh till I was gasping for air. And now I have a sense of humor that focuses on the absurd such that you'd think me an asshole if you didn't know my values. Thanks, Dad.

There are few worse sounds than crying and gas powered lawn tools, but I'll gladly listen to the crying for this satisfaction