Suffer the Little Children

Monday on the way in to work on the bus, a child of about two on his mother's lap spied the big shiny box which holds the safety strap used to secure wheelchairs to the bus so the folks sitting in them don't roll away at every sudden stop. This child was determined he would have this shiny new toy and would not be prevented, and when his mother got in the way and set him down gently but firmly on the floor, he pitched an absolute fit (as two-year-olds often do).

Then today, this cute cublet in a hoodie with about a quarter-inch stripe of beard had sat down in the side-facing seat in front of me and, when the opportunity presented itself, switched to the seat opposite me on the back bench so he could put his feet up. Almost at the same time, a father and daughter boarded the bus. I had put in my earbuds, and at the next stop, after a mother and child boarded and sat between cublet and me, the girl up front began caterwauling just as my phone's MP3 player kicked in with Pat Benatar's "Suffer the Little Children".

To quote from another woman singer of some reknown, "isn't it ironic, don't ya think?"