If I took my child to a very fancy restaurant, or to a Broadway show, or to a pricey jazz concert, I’d expect her to behave appropriately to the occasion. I wouldn’t take her if I wasn’t confident that she’d be able to meet that standard (I’m not now, and so I don’t take her — we’re still working up to that kind of event), and I’d remove her quickly if she became disruptive. But I’d also expect that if she became disruptive, and I didn’t act, we’d be visited by a waiter or an usher, and escorted out.

For me, I have no problem with the presence of children. They are children, I assume there is a possibility that they may cry, scream, act out or generally be noisy in some way. They are not adults, and should not be treated as such.

That does not mean they should not be expected to behave. What I mean is, they should be expected to behave at an age-appropriate level. A three year old probably doesn’t want to sit still for two hours at a fancy, dress-up restaraunt with nothing to entertain them. An infant will not be able to keep from crying throughout a movie. As adults, we need to recognize this and not expect children to conform to adult behaviours.

As a non-parent [at the moment], I almost feel like my opinion is invalidated the second I voice a complaint about the behaviour of a parent. An example of this would be the recent preview of the Superman movie. My husband and I got free passes to attend a very early morning private screening. Seated in front of us were…two parents, with two children. One was an infant under one, the other was a three or four year old child. The second the lights went down, the infant started screaming. Didn’t stop, the entire movie. The parents never once made a move to leave or take the infant out. In my opinion, that was incredibly inappropriate.

But I don’t feel it was inappropriate because I dislike children [I rather like children, want some of my own soon]. No, I feel it was inappropriate because it seemed like it wasn’t good for the child. The movie theatre was extremely dark, crowded, and very, very loud. Sure it was irritating to have someone screaming throughout the movie, but to me I’d be more worried about exposing a very young infant to something they clearly didn’t enjoy.

I don’t know why, but sometimes it’s very hard to explain this to parents. It’s like people instantly hear “this child’s behaviour was annoying”, the assume the person “hates all children/wants them to disappear”.

A few minutes of disruption is nothing. No one should be losing sleep over that. It’s when it becomes a prolonged and very extreme situation [a child in a restaraunt who breaks things/screams/assaults other patrons and the parents do nothing about it], that’s when it becomes a problem.

You win the internets.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve gotta get my screaming toddler all wound up with a sugary snack so we can go hang out at the local bar, after which I’m going to take her, while she’s nice and over-stimulated, to a midnight showing of Schindler’s Choice. And if she cries, nobody better say shit to me, cuz dammit, I’m sick of this thread and I need some me time.

I haven’t seen anyone advocate banning children from establishments per se (with the exception of bars and nightclubs because those aren’t safe or appropriate places for children). I have seen annoyance with parents who bring their children to fancy restaruants, plays, etc. and either refuse to correct them and/or act like everyone should put up with the disruptions.

And yes, I do think there are some places that aren’t appropriate for kids. I don’t think that, say, a crowded bar or a dance club is the place for young children (and besides, it’s too damn late for them to be up). I do not think that late show R-rated or NC-17 movies are appropriate for young children. When I saw the rerelease of the Exorcist–the late showing–someone brought in his four-year-old daughter, and berated her when she freaked out during one of the scenes. WELL DUH–that was a scary movie for a lot of adults, let alone a young child who was overtired and cranky and bloody well should have been tucked into bed several hours before.

Except…

Except that she hates babies and very young children. She knows it’s pathological. She is glad that smart, good people are out there raising children. But when one of our friends has a kid, she immediately doesn’t really want to see them until the kids are at least 7. She doesn’t want them in our house until the kids are at least 13. She doesn’t hate them as individuals, but she doesn’t want to be around them. And yes, she knows this is a psychological issue. But because she made it very clear to me 15 years ago when we began to discuss marriage, it’s simply accepted that we will not have children, and that she will not be taking care of or spending any time around children.

And, of course, I love all kids. Of any age.

So when our friends want a night out, I’m only too happy to baby sit. Even if it means staying over there overnight alone. Many of my friends marvel that I am one of the first names their kids learn. And once they graduate to the age when they are tolerable to my wife, they come over. They all like her.

So I sometimes call my friends with kids “breeders.” But it’s said in a tone of admiration, respect, and, to be honest, jealousy. Because, though I would not trade my life for anything, though I am happy with my wife and the wonders that she provides me every day of my life just by the way she laughs, she jokes, and teaches me what it is to be human, though I can’t imagine that a child’s smile would warm me any more than hers does, well, I still wish that I was a breeder. And I won’t ever be.

Breeders isn’t a slur. It’s a term of respect.

I don’t want to have to share my night on the town with anyone who’s going to disrupt the experience. But a few minutes’ disruption isn’t going to destroy my evening, and just about any disruption — from a child or an adult — can be resolved in a few minutes.

Following up to myself here, this is one of the places the analogy between childhood and disability is most provocative, I think.

An adult who has a chronic illness or a disability, or who is old, may well be more likely to experience an unexpected physical or cognitive problem that imposes a few minutes’ disruption on those around her than a young, non-disabled adult.

But do we demand, when we go out, that nobody who has a higher-than-baseline chance of disrupting our evening because of a medical problem or mental disorder be seated near us? Or do we welcome the company of people with disabilities, and take on a slight risk of disruption good-naturedly?

And when we’re making these calculations, shouldn’t we respect the risk-benefit analyses that the affected people make for themselves, or that their caregivers make for them? Shouldn’t it be the Tourette’s sufferer who decides whether her risk of a disruptive vocalization is low enough for her to go to the theater? Shouldn’t it be the person with a seizure disorder to determine how much she should circumscribe their activities? And if a person with a disability isn’t able to make such a decision on her own, shouldn’t it be made with (or by) the people who love her? Shouldn’t people with disabilities and those who love them make their own judgements and calculations, and get on with their lives as best they can?

And if it’s appropriate for people with disabilities and the people who love them to make those kind of judgements and calculations — and to accept the consequences of their decisions — then why not hold parents and children to the same standard?

On the off chance that my husband and I manage to schedule an evening out, having foisted the young critters on some poor unsuspecting soul or, alternatively, on their grandmother, I should really prefer that it be in an adults-only atmosphere.

I’m curious about this. Would a restaurant (or theater, or night-club) where kids were permitted be okay, as long as it was a place in which you could reasonably expect that any disruptive patrons (children or adults) would be asked to leave expeditiously? Or would the presence of kids itself be enough to ruin your evening?

If I took my child to a very fancy restaurant, or to a Broadway show, or to a pricey jazz concert, I’d expect her to behave appropriately to the occasion. I wouldn’t take her if I wasn’t confident that she’d be able to meet that standard (I’m not now, and so I don’t take her — we’re still working up to that kind of event), and I’d remove her quickly if she became disruptive. But I’d also expect that if she became disruptive, and I didn’t act, we’d be visited by a waiter or an usher, and escorted out.

Bad behavior is bad behavior, it seems to me. I don’t want to have to share my night on the town with anyone who’s going to disrupt the experience. But a few minutes’ disruption isn’t going to destroy my evening, and just about any disruption — from a child or an adult — can be resolved in a few minutes.

If I go to see Lyle Lovett in concert, and I notice a five-year-old (for instance) in the audience, I’m going to be surprised … but pleased that her parents are exposing her to good music. If she behaves well, I’m going to be doubly pleased. If she misbehaves and is removed promptly, I’ll shrug it off. (And I’ll suspect that taking her to the concert is a class of mistake that those particular parents won’t make again soon.)

It’s only if she misbehaves and isn’t removed that I’m going to be irritated, and in that circumstance what’s bothering me isn’t her presence, or even her misbehavior, but her parents’ boorishness. It’s not their decision to take her to the concert that’s going to annoy me, in other words, but their refusal — their refusal, not hers — to behave appropriately once there.