One Thing I Hate About You

Yes, you. Lady sitting in front of us at church. The church that we were visiting. Where we should have been made to feel welcome. I find you annoying, lady. I know that you would say that you found us annoying, but here's the thing about that: I don't care. Yes, my children were a little too loud a couple of times, and once or twice they were too exhuberant in their play. But they were playing with two other children, and their father was sitting right beside them. Why didn't you look at him with your judgemental, annoyed, and squinty look? And didn't you know that I saw you looking directly in my face the first time you looked at me? I smiled because I didn't know what your problem was. Then you told the children to be quiet. I had already spoken to them, thank you very much. It was loud in this warehouse of a church, so their noise was minimal. But even if they were completely "cutting a fool" one half-turn to the back is enough to let me know that you were disturbed. I didn't need 3, 4, 5 pissy looks in my direction, especially since your own two boys were turned around in their seats, hanging over their chairs and dangling their arms in our space. Even if I were a terrible mother (which I'm not) with uncontrollable children (which they are not), I didn't ask for your advice, so please don't offer it in the form of glares. Next time, I'd thank you to simple take your ample behind to another seat. Perhaps one where you can pay more attention to the service and less attention to my children. And God bless you, too.