Why is it that every time I travel by train people feel the need to come park their noisy brats next to me?
My co-passenger this time around was a wide-eyed, loud-voiced four year old who was fascinated by trains and tall buildings, and felt the need to shout across to his mother (who was sitting in the next seat, though from the way he screamed she might as well have been in the next compartment) every single time he saw either one.
This might have been endearing (the sense of wonder must not disappear & c.) except that we were on a train to Manhattan, so Junior was able to spot either a train or a tall building with astonishing frequency. No sooner had he turned back to the window than another train or skyscraper would swim into his ken, and with a wild surmise accompanied by a most un-stout Cortez like yell, he would have to proclaim this fresh bulletin to his mother. I'm all for kindness to children, but after you've heard the phrase "Look Mommy! there's another tall building!" for the 16th time in two minutes, you begin to wonder if 'kindness' wouldn't consist of hitting the brat on the head with a blunt object.