TV Smith's latest must surely strike a chord in our hearts. Or in our crotch when the little buggers lose control of their roller shoes.
In my youth (which was before the time of such a dastardly invention), I had a surefire way to deal with unruly children at a shopping mall. Back then, the kids merely ran about on their regular shoes. But they were annoying all the same. During the times when such a wild child ran towards me unknowingly, I would rise to the occasion.
Actually I would raise a knee to the occasion. Just high enough to meet the child in his chest. Thereon, inertia would do the rest. "Hey, Mr. Solar Plexus, meet Mr. Knee!"
The science behind it is simple enough. Upon contact of the child's celiac plexus with my age-hardened patella, said child's abdominal cavity momentarily collapses under the force of the impact. This action is countered with said child's diaphragm compressing his lungs whereupon its gaseous contents are expelled into the atmosphere. In short, it knocks the wind out of him.
And here, the strangest thing happens. They don't ever cry.
Perhaps it's the excruciating, numbing pain. Or perhaps it's the shock. Or maybe it's even because they know they had it coming. Either way, they never cry. They just limp sheepishly back to their parents' side where they should have been in the first place. Hehh!
Okay, okay, so I was an angst-ridden psycho in my turbulent youth! But now that I am a parent, I realise that just like I once prowled the malls for naughty kids, someone out there is doing the very same even as I write this. Therefore, as a responsible parent, I will refrain from giving my child roller shoes. I will also endeavour to educate my son in the ways becoming of a respectable and well-mannered child so that he will not be subjected to the same fate as my victims of yesteryear.
And if all else fails, a knee in the gut will be just as effective. Okay, okay, I'm kidding. I promise.