I'm that old person

Sitting on a shady bench in the park yesterday, Roane sleeping fitfully in the stroller next to me. I'd given the picnic table of rowdy teens a respectful distance.

But, as it was a hot day - and (the day before? the day of?) the first day of school, they were doing something their parents wouldn't have approved of. And as it was a hot day, they moved their rowdy selves to the shady bench close to mine.  One girl was being especially over-the-top probably-faking-80%-of-her-buzz loud, and one boy was shouting that she was a "drunk idiot who needs to quiet the eff down before someone calls the police".

Roane woke up crying. I have the Alameda Police Department's number in my phone. I was sooooooooooooooooooooooooo tempted.

What I SHOULD have done was walk up to them and say, "Hey kids, how's it going? Having fun? You know, I used to be you. And girlfriend, you ARE a drunk idiot. And you woke up my baby. So I just called the police."

What I did instead was sigh heavily and huff away, just like every other stroller-mom.  Grrrr. At least... at LEAST... I wasn't wearing mom jeans.