A Whore Raising Experience

Since I don't have kids, I rarely comment on child rearing techniques.  However, I recently witnessed a parenting cluster fuck the likes of which I've never seen.

Hubs and I were with a group of friends at our favorite Greek restaurant in the city.  My friend and the brother my parents never gave me, Roger, was on leave from the Army visiting with us, so we wanted him to experience this great place. (Roger isn't his real name, but I swore I'd use that name for him if he made the blog because instead of saying "yes" he always says, "Roger!") 

This restaurant is typically raucous with drinking, dancing on the tabletops and roaming belly dancers.  It's after 10 p.m. and we're relaxing after a delicious meal, enjoying some adult beverages and good conversation.  Suddenly, we notice something we'd never seen there before:  a group of small children ranging in age from I'd say three to eight years old.  I'm no expert, but should young kids be out in a bar at that time of night?

But wait!  There's more....

Little girls dressed in sequined outfits with bared midriffs joined the belly dancer.  They even got up on the tabletops and did bump and grind moves that were waaaaaaay beyond their years.   I wouldn't have been surprised if they'd started doing apple juice body shots.  Our group all looked at each other and asked, "Is this making anyone else uncomfortable?"  It was weird.  Very weird.  But, much like a train wreck, we couldn't look away.  I hadn't seen bumping and grinding that inappropriate since my Night at the Dusty Beaver.

Roger, whom I'd been telling about this place for a long time, turned and gave me a look that clearly said, "I had no idea you were in to this sort of scene, pervert."  I assured him that this had never happened before, but he remained skeptical, especially when the little ones began stuffing cash in the dancer's G-string.

One of the parents whom we immediately named "Stifler's Mom" due to her voluminous, exposed cleavage seemed to be directing the tots.  Nice influence, there, tits.  Was there a Billy Ray Cyrus parenting workshop in town we didn't know about?  I thought that perhaps this group was out on the town practicing newly acquired kid pimping skills. 

Now, while I believe it is important for kids to learn the art of tipping, I do not think that includes baby hands making it rain on a scantily clad dancer.  There are certain things that little girls in the single digits shouldn't do.  I never thought parents would have to be specifically told, "Hey, how about not letting your six-year-old drop it like it's hot next to my dinner?"  Oh, and, "While you're at it, could you tell your little princess to stop twerking on the waiter?"  I'm 43 years old and it's safe to say that my parents would still try to beat my ass if they saw me doing bullshit like that. 

We even asked the waiter,  "Is that appropriate in here?"  He said that the parents were responsible, so what could they do?  I beg to differ on the "responsible" part.  If those girls end up dancing on a pole one day, their parents can't say a damn word.  They planted the seed.

If there was a pedophile dining there that night, no doubt he thought he'd discovered the best floor show in town.  Does it make you proud, Stifler's Mom, to know that some perv is tucking away images of your six-year-old's provocative dancing into his spank bank for later?  Nice.  Really nice. 

How about displaying some good judgment and class Mom of the Year?  I Ain't Nobody's Mama, but I know bullshit parenting when I see it.