Huh. I don’t believe in coincidences, but guess whose family is having a reunion?
Last night I collected the first wave from Tampa Airport. The party consisted of husband, wife, and three kids under age eight. Here’s the rundown.
Father didn’t stop longer than fifteen seconds from fondling and whispering to his Blackberry.
Mother (the Troll daughter) made idle threats to the kids and otherwise looked like she needed a very stiff drink.
Three children ran amok.
When I say they ran amok, they did so whilst strapped in to their seats, so they were clearly well practised at raising hell.
The first clue as to the unfolding horror was that I couldn’t tell the kids’ sex, because they all had hair to their shoulders. Poorly groomed kids means poorly disciplined kids, and so it turned out. In one hour and ten minutes, all three had two rounds of tears and blubbing, there were two episodes of punching, one of biting, and a possible soiled pants in a six-year old.
Oh, and they threw all of the water bottles, all of the ice, all of the napkins and all of the plastic cups on the floor.
Trolls beget trolls, I tell you.