Summer finally showed up, I was off work, and the whole family was melting in the heat—perfect time for a pool day. My sister offered to take her eldest, and my sister-in-law brought her daughter along too. Since I was still packing up our toddler and doing the snack run with my wife, they asked if my 10-year-old daughter could go ahead with them. Sure, why not.
When we eventually rolled up to the pool, arms full of watermelon and half-melted drinks, my sister hit me with the update: there’s a kid running around the pool area like a miniature Gordon Ramsay—dropping F-bombs right in front of the little ones.
Now, to be clear, my daughter is 10. Her cousins are both 4. So we’re not exactly hosting an HBO afterparty here. This isn’t the time or place for unfiltered profanity from some random feral ginger child with no off-switch.
Apparently, this kid only wanted to play with my daughter because, according to his tiny lordship, “little kids suck.” My daughter wasn’t having it—she likes hanging with her little cousins. She’s not too cool for family. The boy, however, was already shaping up to be a pint-sized jerk.
Then I saw him. You know that moment when someone walks up and you can feel the tension? My sister and sister-in-law both gave me the look that said, yep, that’s the one. Sure enough, the kid walks over and drops the F-word like he’s auditioning for a Quentin Tarantino remake of The Sandlot.
I didn’t even look at him. Just gave him a calm but firm “Off you go” in Austrian dad tone. You know the one. The universal language of nope. He ran off.
But he kept coming back.
Throughout the afternoon, this kid tried repeatedly to weasel his way into our group. Each time, he was escorted out of the metaphorical nightclub. No wristband, no entry. And it wasn’t just the language. He told a girl he was playing with to “shut the f*** up.” In broad daylight. In front of other kids. At a public pool.
And his parents? Nowhere. Checked out. Looked like they were raised in a discount parenting subreddit.
Eventually, I had to explain to my daughter why she couldn’t play with him:
- He didn’t respect the people around him
- He used language that made other kids uncomfortable
- And yes, he was acting like a little jerk
Look, I’m not trying to overreact. But there’s a difference between roughhousing and being that kid no one wants around. So was I the a**hole for drawing the line?
Or just a dad doing quality control?
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