Hotel Etiquette for Seven-year-olds

November 7, 2006

I admit it. I’ve been withholding this from you, stingy grinch that I am. I’ve truthfully been more than a little embarrassed to share this, but the time has come to face my fears that I’m raising an asshole, look them full in the face and tell them to go to hell. (Can girls be assholes? I think they can.) This is where blaming things on her father feels soooooooo good. Of course she’s a jerk. She’s just like her father. Can’t you hear it now? Oh, the things people would think if they could hear inside my head.

If I ever have to build a case against Babs, though, I’m going to whip out this handy dandy note, which was written in two parts. The “please” and smiley face written in the heart were added after I showed my aghast mother face and said, quite reprimandingly I might add, “Babs, you can *not* slip that under the door that has the crying baby!” But I digress.

As with all stories, this story has a beginning, a middle and an end. Last month, Babs and I headed to Utah to use the Lagoon Amusement Park tickets I had purchased at Costco that were about to expire. Typical of my life, I seem to enjoy the pressure of expiration before I get anything done.

Because it was raining cats and dogs (figuratively, of course, no little wiener dogs falling from the sky — I’ll save that for my post on acid), Babs and I checked in to the Ogden Marriott, a recommendation from Trip Advisor and a very nice deal at $79.99.

Since my first “real” job out of college involved quite a bit of travel, I’ve come to take for granted all the cool stuff a hotel room can offer. Take the door between the rooms, for instance. Thrilled and curious, Babs made a beeline for the door, asking me if it were a closet.

“No, honey,” I replied in my best June Cleaver voice. “That door separates two rooms so that if we had, say, grandma and grandpa staying in the hotel with us, we could have separate rooms but still go back and forth between them.”

“Oh,” she said. One of her favorite responses.

She then moved on to exploring the closet, dresser and bathroom before settling in with the remote and racking up 6 bucks in game charges while I took a shower.

Not too long after that, the occupants of the adjoining room entered. We knew this by the ensuing noise, which made me wish I had brought Jon’s earplugs with me. Man. Woman. Child. Baby. It was hard not to miss.

Sheesh,” says an annoyed Babs. “That baby’s loud.”

In a rare moment of joyous passive aggression, I let her know that it was probably her karma coming back to her for all the people she annoyed with her tantrums, screams and crying that could have awakened the dead. On her first day at daycare, the poor childcare workers called me no less than eight times, and when I finally just took her with me, they shook their heads and told me, “Angela, we’ve never *seen* a baby get so mad so fast.” Yep. That’s my angel. Not long after that, I quit my job. She wanted to be attached to me 24/7. Period. Still does, come to think of it.

So I rejoiced internally that Babs was irritated by the piercing scream of this baby but told her that no, we could not knock on the door and ask them if they could keep the baby quiet.

“I’m pretty sure that if they could get the baby to settle down, they would,” I told her. “It’s not easy being a parent. They don’t want him to cry anymore than we do.”

At this point, I was feeling very smug and happy with myself . . . . . until . . . .

I look over and see Babs pushing something underneath the adjoining door.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” I yell. Yelling has proven to be the only thing to stop Babs in her tracks, and I was damn well sure that I needed to stop her this time.

“I’m just sending them a note,” she replied all innocent, with a sheesh-mom-I-*know*-what-I’m-doing attitude.

Confiscating the note, I told her that it was absolutely inappropriate and was rude, at the very least, at which point she added the “please” and the heart with the smiley face in it. But don’t think that a part of me didn’t want to push it under the door, too. Because I did.



  1. ok, this would probably bite me back in the future when I have kids of my own but i have to say …. the note was funny! with the “hae people” and then the cute little heart. looks like she is getting too smart for her own good.

  2. i keep telling J to hope that our kid won’t have too much of my genes as I was VERY mischievous when i was younger. with J’s genes, he or she will be that perfect little angel 😉 we’ll have to see….it’s one of those flip of a coin things.

    i was wondering with the “people” and “quiet” spelling- thought that was pretty good. spelling “hae” that way i.e. as it sounds is quite clever too. that heart smile at the end still cracks me up though.

    From the pics on your site, Babs is just too cute. Not sure how I’ll be able to get angry with her looking so cute. That, I guess, shows my lack of parenting (and handling kids) experience – it’ll change when I have some of my own.

    Thanks, I currently have 4 different color styles of my blog – I actually like my yellow one the best – as to me that is the most cartoonic. I’ll be making more color schemes as the months go by. J loves the current Maroon/ burgandy one. I’ll be rotating my color schemes according to how I feel that day or week 😉

  3. Hiya, Foo! My poor sister-in-law says that she has had to eat a lot of crow since becoming a mother. It truly is the toughest job I’ve ever loved, as they say, and it’s really the one thing that has knocked me down more than a peg or two on more than one occassion in terms of humility. (But I thought I was a *patient* person!)She has been too smart for *my* own good since the get go, and yes, I’m afraid that her being too smart for her own good (or at least thinking that she is) may not serve her very well. Humility is not a trait she comes by naturally. The funny thing is, I think she asked me how to spell “people” and “quiet” and I *still* didn’t get it until she was trying to shove the thing under the door, God bless her. Have a great day, Foo! I love the new colors on your website, too. Do you like the burgandy better?

  4. Nice! You’re so techy. I wish I were techy. *sniff* And yes, I think that personalities are just luck of the draw. Babs seems to have interited the worse of both her father and me. Dangit, while Little Jon is just the most perfect precious child that ever walked the planet (which is a true miracle). We’ll see. They say the good ones are hell as teenagers! Maybe that means Babs will be a dollbaby in her teens. HA!

  5. Those two notes are so unique. An arsehole child is nothing to be ashamed of. Just threaten her with a hockey mask on whenever she gets a little too much to handle. I plan to do that with my children.

  6. Hi Orhan! Love the hockey mask idea. Why didn’t I think of it sooner?! Genius. Pure genius!

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