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Rant: raising the bar kids

Mark Peters

Mark Peters

It used to be our weekly treat, the simple Sunday brunch. Meet a few friends, peruse the paper over a ridiculously named coffee, polish off an eggs Benedict and, a couple of bloody Marys later, we were into a lazy afternoon drinking sesh. But that's all changed because, now, there're little people everywhere, filling the place with snot and screams and half-eaten crayons.

Illustration: a yip
Now I can (almost) accept having to navigate an obstacle course of three-wheeled buggies and screaming brats to procure my morning caffeine fix from my local coffee shop/crèche, but when did it become acceptable for bars to become toddlers' jungle gyms? I'm more than happy for you to have your little rays of sunshine sit with YOU and smear food over themselves at YOUR table - kids have got to eat, too, right? - but when you allow them to swing on my chair and chase each other around my table as though they're at a school sports day sponsored by Red Bull, running the distinct risk of spilling my posh gin and tonic, that's another matter entirely.

Bars are adults' playgrounds after all, and when I see you peek over and ignore your adorable little irritant because you're ever so glad to grab a few golden moments when you don't have to actually BE a parent, then that's when I'll take on the responsibility to educate your kid in barroom manners. Unfortunately, though, I only know big-boy language, so you may want to neck that shiraz and come save your loved one; I may not be the temporary babysitter you lazily hoped I'd be.

This article appeared in the South China Morning Post print edition as: Raising the bar kids
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