you look so small, you've gone so quiet

My wife and I spent a good amount of this past summer at the beach. While I am not a fan of the beach, my wife loves it, so I go. I will admit that it was not totally unpleasant. I got to spend time with Mrs. P. I got to sit and do practically nothing for several hours. I was actually able to take a quick, undisturbed nap every so often, too. So, there was a little sand in my shoes and my hair was flattened to my head from the protective baseball cap I wore. It wasn't horrible.

I remember sitting on the beach, looking around at the surroundings — the ocean, the umbrellas, kids running through the sand. I remember hearing the sounds — seagulls, the low roar of the waves, parents screaming at the aforementioned children. Yes, several times during the summer, I was jolted awake by some of the foulest language I've ever heard, being projected at full volume. The words were fraught with vicious anger and the object of this tirade was usually a youngster of five or six.

I was dumbfounded. Here was a child  — happy, carefree, busying himself with the task of constructing the world's greatest castle of sand. This young architect  — dragging an overfilled bucket of ocean water from the shore's edge in order to formulate the proper consistency of the sand to create a sturdy foundation for his structure... only to have a belligerent adult (a father? an uncle? Mom's new boyfriend?) harangue this young charge for doing, at the beach, what kids do at the beach.

"Get that fucking shit away from me!," I witnessed one bathing suit-clad gentleman yell at a young fellow who couldn't have been more than five. He gripped the handle of a brightly-colored plastic pail in his tiny fists and silently took his abuse with wide, sorrowful eyes.

This morning, a friend was telling me that she witnessed a woman pushing a small child in a stroller through the downtown Philadelphia train station, the same one I commute to every morning. She watched as this woman pushed until she stopped the stroller at a set of steps that led up to street level. The woman tilted the stroller forward, bared her clenched teeth and growled at the child, "Get out!" The child scrambled dutifully to his feet and carefully, though awkwardly, ascended the stairs.

I have one thing to say to these people: If you don't like your kids, and you never should have had kids... for goodness sake... don't take your anger and frustration and poor decision making out on your kids. Just resign yourself to the fact that these children are your responsibility. You were "adult enough" to create a child. Now, be "adult enough" to be an adult.

www.joshpincusiscrying.com

not to put too fine a point on it

Remember that girl in your fourth-grade class who dotted her "i"s with little bulbous hearts? Do you ever wonder if, as an adult, she still does that? Perhaps she is now a doctor with a family practice. Do you think she's writing prescriptions for Amoxicillin and capping those three "i"s with a plump, little heart floating above that vertical stroke and placed at a jaunty angle? I doubt it. I'll bet she's not using another bit of punctuation from her youth — the exclamation point. In order to show the urgency of the prescription, I'm sure she is informing her patient that it must be filled upon leaving the office and an immediate dose is of the utmost importance. I'd be willing to bet that nowhere on that prescription does a single exclamation point appear. Nowhere.

Y'know why? Because exclamation points are silly and childish and have no place in the adult world, much like a heart-shaped tittle (the technical term for the dot on the "i").

Look, I'm aware of the old adage: "Everything in moderation." I don't expect the exclamation point to totally disappear. People will continue to employ it at the end of a personal sentiment when signing a birthday card ("Best wishes, Mom!") and on banners brought to a baseball game ("Hit it here!"). But. please, can we limit its usage on every single piece of correspondence, especially those of a business or professional nature? And, if you do feel compelled to include an exclamation point in your communications, please, please, limit it to one. There is nothing more infuriating than seeing a pert little squadron of fifteen exclamation points following the eight letters that comprise the words "thank you." One can just as easily convey the gravity of an idea or the sincerity of a feeling with some carefully chosen words rather than the repeated staccato of dots with dashes balanced precariously over them.

Exclamation points should be treated like a box of Cocoa Puffs. Sure, they were great and plentiful when you were six. But, now as an adult, perhaps a wiser choice would be more beneficial. It's okay once in a while, but overuse could have detrimental results.

F. Scott Fitzgerald once said: "An exclamation point is like laughing at your own joke." And he knew a lot more about writing than you do.

!

www.joshpincusiscrying.com

call me irresponsible

How would you like to be free of all responsibility? You could do anything you wish at any time you like with absolutely no consequences. Don't feel like going to work today? Don't go. It's okay. Don't want to carry that plate into the kitchen now that you have finished your meal? Then, don't. Just leave it on the rug. Someone will take care of it for you.

Would you like to do as much or as little of any task and suffer no repercussions if it is not completed properly or not completed at all? Don't want to take out the trash? Then, don't. Could you pick me up at 7 tonight? You can't? Oh, that's okay. Your report is gonna be late? Fine, fine. Please - don't rush. We'll manage.

Would you like to have someone else take the blame for all of your failures? Would you like it if you could just do whatever you'd like, with no regard for anyone else's feelings or how your actions might affect someone else besides yourself? Taking up two parking spaces? That's okay. No, of course you can have the last of the French fries. I'll eat later. Sure, you can talk in a regular speaking voice in the movies. You paid for your ticket.

Would you like everyone to cater to your every whim with no expected reciprocation? Sure, you can get in front of me in line. Of course you are entitled to one free, but, please, take six of them. Here's a gift for your birthday. When is my birthday? That's not important. You're the important one.

Wouldn't you like to have someone bail you out of every bad situation that directly resulted from your bad judgement? Of course, I'll buy you a new tire. It wasn't your fault.

Would you like to be praised despite your regular poor decisions while still maintaining a position of high esteem? No, no. It's alright. It's their loss. You'll do better next time.

Then, you, my friend, are looking for a fairy godmother. And they only exist in fairy tales for children.

Now, stop acting like a child.

www.joshpincusiscrying.com