Call Me a Weed.

The Difference between a Flower and a Weed is a judgment. –unknown

So today, I’m a weed. My flower didn’t bloom, thinking about last night’s movie. This is a judgmental blog. Go ahead, call me a weed. I can take it. What I can’t take is a screaming baby at a movie that I’ve paid big bucks to see.

What are new parents thinking? Can they not let their baby go? For two hours? Don’t they have at least one friend to watch their precious? Or do they really think Harry Potter will stimulate their kid into the wizardry world? Really. Do they think that at a movie, no one will care that they’ve strapped their 4-month-old to their chest and brought him along?

I mind. My kids mind. The entire *%^@% theater minds. Especially when precious starts to wail. And who doesn’t scream, at least once, during Harry Potter? Is it fair to the poor baby to be listening to charms and spells at hi-def? Does the baby understand the movie? Genius Baby.

Baby’s parents are too cheap or too lazy to find a sitter, and obviously don’t care about the rest of the world. Instead, they subject baby to a crowd of coughers, hackers, and music so loud the room shakes. Nice.

Summer movies are a wonderful respite to the heat, to the doldrums of long July days, or to the pounding rain. But, not when babies share the theater. I think there should be a baby ban at movie theaters. That or a ban on idiot parents.

See? I’m a weed.