Is it just me or has Ikea gotten a LOT noisier lately? The last couple of times I’ve been there I have noticed an increase in the number of parents walking around the store with their screaming, shrieking, noise blasting generating progeny and I’m really beginning to resent it. Every time I turn around in the store these days, I’m tripping over some limousine stroller with a miserable looking tyke in it. But it’s the preschool kids that are the real problem.
It seems like some of them are engaging in screaming matches with their siblings. They wait until they’re standing right behind you as you thoughtfully examine the curtains and then they fine tune the frequency and volume of their shrieks to cause maximum trauma to your inner ear. The noise is sharp, loud, percussive and sustained. Why do they do this? There are no lions gorging on their viscera. Their mother isn’t being shot by a hunter. There is no reason to alert the rest of the herd.
I hate the parents of these children.
It’s not just that they allow them to make unlimited amounts if earpiercing screaming at high decibel levels, they also allow them to jump all over the place. I needed to return something and had to wait at customer service for about 20 minutes when a family sat down on the same bench right next to me. The toddler started getting antsy. He jumped off the bench, crawled back on and danced from one side to the other. The other side was where I was sitting. I kept moving down the bench but this move just encouraged him to dance on a bigger stage and get more energetic. He started falling into me. I gave his mother a look. She smiled. He fell against me hard and I picked him up, pushed him towards his parents and asked them to keep him from falling off the bench and risking a concussion. From the expression on their faces, it was not going to end well, but my number was finally called and I was no longer responsible.
Then there was the kid that launched himself off of the bedspread display right into the path of my cart, punctuating his leap with a rebel yell of demonesque intensity. I nearly ran the kid over. The dad scooped him up, shot me a look and said to him, I kid you not, this is the exact wording, “Be careful or someone will take you away from me forever”.
Dude, you’re shopping at Ikea. You couldn’t pay me the $10,000 I’d require to take the kid home and lock him in my nice guest bedroom overnight where he could jump on the beds without hurting himself or other innocent bystanders. What makes you think I *want* your obnoxious tyke?
These kids are running around like they’ve eaten 10 bowls of chocolate frosted sugar bombs. I know Brook was a handful when she was this age but when we went to ikea, I checked her into the ball room. That’s what it’s there for- to park your kids who don’t give a rat’s ass what Stuva drawer front you’re having a meltdown with your spouse over. And that couple I witnessed in full breakup mode in the textile section? They don’t need the extra aggravation of toddlers with the vocal skills of smoke detectors. Don’t like the idea of your kids picking up Whooping Cough from the germy balls? Get them vaccinated, you nit wits.
Park the brats in the ball room, pick them up in 30 minutes and do the traditional Swedish meatball thing. Then, while one parent is going through the marketplace, the other parent can hang out with the tots in the Ikea kid section where everything is low enough that falling off the furniture doesn’t risk skull fractures or dirty looks from other customers.
Or better yet, leave them at home. They need to run around where no one wants to throttle them. Get a sitter. If you must bring them, give them a turkey and milk full tryptophan lunch, wear them out before you bring them in or if nothing else works, dope the kiddies with cough syrup a la long flight to California. Don’t look shocked. Apparently, I was the only parent who didn’t know this trick but damn it, I would have done it in a microsecond for a few hours of peace on a crowded plane.
The place was crawling with children today. It looks like parents are terrified to leave them alone In a room full of plastic balls for even one second. Get over it or the next time that kid jumps in front of my cart, I’m going to leave tire marks on his back.