Sam & I encountered this scene (moreorless) this past weekend while wandering around Oakbrook Mall. I don't understand teens sometimes: this mother was carting around her son, purchasing his entire Fall ensemble, & he was too occupied by Fall Out Boy's or Plain White Tees' or (what the devil are kids listening to?) Neil Secada's latest hit to take out his ear pod & acknowledge her generosity.
Geoffrey, or Trevor, or Maximilian's* iArrogance aside, some parents are the more obvious points-of-blame when it comes to Social Snottery. I see & hear parents treating their children like gods & goddesses living amongst us, the Fallen Masses.
"Ma'am, can I PLEASE be in the presence of you twink's Cali-feathered bangs & ne're-do-well nonchalance? Is he wearing Too-Young-To-Be-Fuckable's new line?"
My parents did a wonderful job raising me in that I was never more important than anyone else. Obviously, that's not to say I wasn't the little gay apple (little gay apples are green with a hint of sass, by the way) of their eyes, but I was never "Mommie & Daddies little angel." I was just a kid. Gary & Tina's kid. More than anything, they kept it real.
*When asked, "What's a good snotty rich boy name?" my father replied, "I dunno, Braaaaad?" in his thick Chicago dialect. I could NOT stop laughing.