Mall of Georgia Kidgits' play area -- the unspoken rules

Before my daughter was born my wife and I would walk the mall and I would look down upon the children's play area there. I don't just mean I was on the second floor and the kids' area was on the first floor. I mean I held the play area in low regard. I had a certain disdain for it. Figuratively, I looked down upon it.

It's difficult for me to explain why I disliked it the way I did. I think it had something to do with the slovenly types that sometimes frequent the area. I'm sure if you go to any shopping mall with a kids' playground you'll see them there. They litter the pleather benches with their mammoth diaper bags, their food court purchases and worst of all their own wide asses. In fact the only thing separating the pleather bench from their wide asses is the latest fashion from Land's End or L.L. Bean. It's just not pleasant to look at.

Now that I parent a toddler who requires an outlet for her energy other than banging on pots or flushing the Fisher Price family down the toilet, I've acquired a certain appreciation for the indoor play area. After all, it's warm in the winter and cool in the summer. It comes complete with its own changing table, and if that's too immodest, the changing table offered by neighboring Nordstrom's is not only more private but also bigger and plusher. Indeed the play area is a convenient spot to sit relatively undisturbed and watch the world go by.

To those who make use of the mall play areas, I'd like to outline for the benefit of your child and mine (but mostly for me personally) some of the unspoken rules that apply. Sure, you've seen upon entering the sign that requests you remove your kid's shoes and leave your stroller outside, but I'm here to tell you some of the things that no one else might be willing to tell you.

First and foremost, kids aged five and older do not belong in this play area. Why, oh why, do some people think this is a suitable place to plop their fat selves down and let their elementary-aged children roam free while they cram more MSG into their gullets from styrofoam boxes they got at the Panda Express Chinese place? The few play fixtures that make up this area are clearly designed for the crawlers and nouveau walkers. A second grader, no matter how stupid, is not really going to derive much pleasure from the busy beads or the two-foot long tunnel the same way a 20-month-old kid will.

Maybe some see this as a convenient place to exchange their role of parent for that of a garbage disposal, but the rest of us would really appreciate it if they took their McCholesterol and their child back to the Food Court or better yet out to their car. Either way our children wouldn't have to be trampled by a big kid while we watch a Jabba the Hut lookalike shovel deep fry into its face.

Yuck! Enough said on that. Just thinking about it, I started to throw up in my mouth a little bit.

On another note, I am a fan of private ownership as much as the next consumer, but if you insist on displaying your kid's snack, sippy cup and diaper bag toy out on the bench beside you, I'm going to leave it to you to keep my kid from putting her grubby little paws all over these precious commodities. Sure, I'll tell her half-heartedly from across the way that those aren't hers to mess with or that they belong to that nice little boy and his mommy but I just think that if you bring shit like that into the arena, you're asking for trouble and deserve what you get.

This isn't the rational adults' play area. This is the kids' play area. More specifically it's for the little ones who developmentally just aren't ready to differentiate between things that belong to them and things that don't. You and I are adults so, sure, I can respect that your Cheerios aren't my Cheerios and your free Nordstrom giveaway balloon's not my free Nordstrom giveaway balloon, but toddlers don't grasp that. At their age they're not content to accept my explanation of one's right to property. I'm not saying don't bring the stuff in. I'm just saying if you bring it, I'm going to leave it up to you to referee.

Besides, I don't want to get off the comfy pleather seat.

Alternatively, I am always grateful to the mom who asks Do you mind if I give your daughter some goldfish crackers? I appreciate a parent who realizes it just sometimes makes for less headache for everyone if generosity prevails. When it comes to free snacks, my daughter has little concept of stranger danger and same goes for me.

Another unspoken rule, and this doesn't just apply to the play area, is meant specifically for the other dads out there. Don't wussify your child. Most of our children already have a parent whose job it is to coddle and pamper and occasionally overreact when a typical mid-playground collision occurs. My dear fellow fathers, our children look to us to be the parent who picks them back up, brushes them off and sends them on their way with little more than a pat on the butt.

Today my daughter and I showed up early to the play area and on the parent front there was just me, two moms with their kids, and another dad of two boys. Of the four parents there, the other dad was easily the biggest Nervous Nelly of the bunch. Every time either of his sons so much as looked back at him funny, he was up out of his seat asking them what was wrong. At one point a little girl who couldn't have been more than 18 months old bumped into his three-year-old son. Though the boy seemed to escape uninjured, he waited for the little girl to walk off and then purposefully dropped to the floor and faked his hurt cry.

Almost as though on cue, me and the two moms busted out laughing at this kid's display. He wasn't hurt. He just knew that if he put on a show his daddy would get up out of his seat and provide him with some undue attention. The kid was right.

Part of me wanted to go up to the dad and say to him Dude, you've got boys. You can't treat them this way but since part of the fun of being a parent is silently gloating at the fact that you are better at the job then most everyone else out there, I just kept my mouth shut.

The Kidgits play area at Mall of Georgia (why they call it kidgits I don't know -- is it for both kids and midgets or just kid midgets or what?) has a small playhouse complete with slide. This is a favorite feature for every kid that comes in the place. Because this is a high-traffic area sometimes congestion occurs. Here's a tip. If the kids can work it out between them who's going next, just leave them alone.

I'm not talking about the parent who has to assist a baby who otherwise wouldn't be able to go down the slide. That's different. What I'm saying is that everyone would have much more fun playing on the slide if all these over-protective parents would just get out of the way. As it is it seems like there's always at least one if not more moms or dads playing slide patrol making sure each kid goes down the slide in what the parent presumes is an orderly fashion. Instead the kids look like products on an assembly line, and each one just goes down hurriedly with a straight face so as to not upset the slide nazi.

This sounds all well and good but the fact of the matter is these kids would each get a turn at the slide regardless of what busy body stepped in to offer unneeded assistance. It is true that toddlers don't queue up and wait their turns the same way grown ups do at the Panda Express, but a kid who wants badly enough to go down the slide will eventually go down the slide.

If on the other hand your kid is one of those slide-o-phobes who after getting up on the first step then chooses to just stand there and pick his seat for the next ten minutes, leave him be too. That's his idea of fun. Just don't come crying when my daughter gently makes her way around him to enjoy the slide for the fourteenth time in a row. It's called survival of the fittest. Don't worry. It doesn't mean your child has a deficiency or anything. He's just learning his place. The world needs seat pickers too.

One final word of advice from me on the kids' play area. When the Teavana employee across the way brings out the free samples of his wares, do not leave your child unattended just so you can go taste the latest greatest infusion from the Far East slash West Coast. Yes, I know the goth kid with painted black fingernails puts a sign out claiming his tea aids memory or improves digestion or somehow makes one a better person, but leaving your child unattended even momentarily so that you can go drink some snake oil to boost your chi is just plain wrong. What would you think of a dad who, just for a minute or two, left his kid and hopped over to the Tinder Box to check out the pre-embargo Cuban cigars? That would be bad, right? Well, ditto for tea.

Now on the other hand if a dad wanted to check out the eye candy that works at the women's clothing store across from the Teavana, that's okay provided he doesn't have to get off his comfy pleather seat.

Hey, I don't make the rules. I'm just here to make the world a better place for everyone.

Okay, so . . . maybe just for me.