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4 CommentsDear Ms. Buttinsky:
Saturday morning I spent some lovely time with my one and only son. We went to the new World of Coca-Cola where we enjoyed some quality conversation. We went home and talked some more. We then decided that Chick-fil-A sounded like a great lunch. My husband was out of pocket all day taking a course for work. My son and I were making the most of missing him by really and truly spending time together.
We sat at our table and chatted for a few moments. We were planning dinner and our trip to the grocery store and having a great exchange of ideas. My cell phone rang. It was my husband, father of my child, love of my life. My son answered the phone and talked for a second and then I got on the phone. I don't like talking on the phone in a restaurant but I was not going to see my husband all day and figured that as long as I talked softly no one would mind too much. Four minutes into the conversation we wound it up so that he could go eat lunch. As we were about to say good-bye you came over to the table and set down the following note and said, "This is meant well." Then you walked out of the restaurant with a confident strut, never looking back.
(To translate: Turn off your phone and talk to your son over lunch. One on one! These years fly.)
In shock I read the note. I started shaking with anger and frustration. I read it to my husband. My son read it. My son read your condescending lecture to a stranger. We were all three so angry and hurt it was then difficult to hang up the phone, to continue eating, to continue our nice day.
If I am driving down the road and am about to run into you or someone else, please involve yourself in my personal life. If I am driving a baby that is not securely and safely nestled in a car seat, please involve yourself in my personal life. If I leave my dog chained in the yard, please involve yourself in my personal life. If I am hurting anyone or anything, please involve yourself in my personal life. If I am talking quietly on my cell phone for four minutes: BUTT OUT. Save it for someone who cares what you think. What if that had been a hospital calling to say that my aunt/uncle/parent/cousin/sibling had just gotten out of surgery or had just been brought in? What if it was an emergency call? What if some long-lost relative had just managed to find me and was calling? What if, and here's the pivotal "what if" so get ready, what if it's just NONE OF YOUR GODDAMN BUSINESS. What if you ended up putting an unreasonable and unnecessary taint on what was a day of closeness for a parent and child? What if your busy-body attitude caused nothing but upset and misery?
Here's a message for you, darling: Instead of watching people at neighboring tables in a restaurant, why don't you spend some "one on one" with the person you are with? Or read a book? Or look at some lovely pictures in an art book? Or look for the divinity in others rather than leaping to a judgment that I don't understand how fleeting time is or that I will so miss my child being eight that it will hurt me forever? I still grieve the loss of his being one and two and three.... I am aware of the passage of time. I am aware that he will only be young once. However, for a while on Saturday afternoon I was equally aware that you should mind your own fucking business and bugger off.
Regards,
The Mom at Chick-fil-A
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Thomas Hawk
PMPhotography
