The root of all evil

The other day I had an experience that just confirms the attitude of so many people about brides and how it is their magical special day.

While fitting a bride, a couple had brought in their son for a tux. Normally, I find young boys adorable in tuxes. This little demon may have changed a few things. See, I try to tamp down on my rage and create a peaceful, pleasant experience for my brides. I've been there and I understand that it can be a stressful situation (key term:can). It is a less attainable goal when your little monster is literally running around the shop, screaming bloody murder in the dressing room (I think my tympanic membrane has ruptured), and treating the dressing room curtains like they are your own personal matador.

Typically, we have idiots bring in their kids and let them run around several times a week. I hate it, but they all start to blur together in a sea of rage. This one, however stuck for a few reasons.

1) The child in question was about 5 or so. Old enough to be on good behavior for 20 minutes. I'm not expecting dinner with the queen, but could you at least not try to pole vault over my bride's skirt?

2) The child had a name. This name embodies all the reasons why this child is messed up. STFU Parents can back me up on the connection between bad name and bad behavior. There is a direct correlation. His name? Andrews. Yes. Plural. Probably spelled with a y in there somewhere.

3) While my bride was changing, Andrews's (?) mom grabbed his arm and told him he was not allowed to run into that dressing room (we have 4) because "there's a princess in there!" She even tried to sound all mystical about it. Really? Really?!? You can't just stop him from being an unholy terror for a few minutes, but have to use fantasy novel fodder to keep him from trashing only one dressing room?

Good hell.