Chick-fil-a Confessionals

In designated Chick-fil-a restaurants across America, behind enclosed, soundproof glass walls and doors is a play area for children under a certain height (although the height rule is regularly overlooked). I'm sure the intention of the company was to have this as a place for kids to make new friends, discover new ideas, get some exercise, and for light conversation between parents, sharing their parenting experiences.

Over time, I learned that while the kids are making new friends, discovering new ideas, and getting exercise, sometimes the parents are using this place to share way more information than which brand of diapers they use. You don't have to be a fly on the wall to hear about bodily functions, backstabbing, affairs, or other intimate confessions at this place. Nope, you just need to be in the wrong place at the right time - that wasn't a Freudian slip on the age old saying.

My first experience in the Chick-fil-a Confessional was with a complete stranger who confided in me about another mom and her "evil" daughter. It went a little something like this:

I took my 2 & 1/2-year old daughter to Chick-fil-a, mid-week, right as they opened. Soon after, another mom walked in with two kids.

We exchanged a courteous hello and asked the common question: How old is your son/daughter? We made small talk about the weather and somehow that made her comfortable enough to tell me about her most recent run-in with another mom.

"Your daughter really plays well with other kids," she said.
"Thank..."
She cut me off, "I just don't get some moms. Some moms don't teach their kids manners or respect for other kids. They let their kids bully other kids and don't punish them for it or nothin'."
So much for enjoying time with my daughter, this woman is going to bend my ear on this shit!
"My daughter has a friend, well had a friend, cause I won't let her play with that little girl anymore. She's a bully and her parents don't do anything about it. The little girl's name is R- and, well, you really can't blame her. It's how she's raised. It's her parent's fault."

"R-, that's an unusual name. Maybe she gets her attitude from an older sibling?"
"Nah," the woman said. "She only has a little sister named Ri-."

"Her mom's a bully, too," she said.
"How do you mean?"
"Well, her mom and dad are alcoholics who drink all the time and fight a lot, in front of the kids, too," she said. 

Her rant went on for about 15-minutes until she hollered at her kids to come down from the maze of tunnels because they had to leave.
She even made sure to warn me, "The mom's name is Kellie K- and if you ever run into her, her daughters are R- and Ri-.They are a dangerous family, stay away from them."

At this point, I burst into laughter.
The ignorant mom looked at me, confused.
"I'm sorry I'm laughing."
"I can't blame you," she said. "It's almost unbelievable."
"Well, no, that's not my point. I'm laughing because Kellie and unnamed husband have been my friends since high school. I'm surprised I've never noticed these problems."
The woman didn't even let her kids get their shoes on. She grabbed all of her belongings and raced her kids in stocking feet, snow on the ground, across the parking lot to her car.

Until next time, a warning for all moms desperate to confide in a complete stranger about cheating husbands, nipple cream, backstabbing friends, and other people's kids, remember, the soundproof glass only conceals the noise, not who or what you talk about.