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NOTE: This blog entry is subtitled "This is Going to Piss A Lot of Parents Off."

I had the pleasure of seeing Bill Cosby’s show at the F.M. Kirby Center on Saturday night. I’ll always think fondly of him for his kind-looking eyes, beleaguered father and husband and joke delivery as much as I fondly recall watching “The Cosby Show” reruns as my family ate dinner when I was growing up.

When I think of seeing him in person this weekend, I will always recall the couple who thought it was a good idea to bring a baby in a bassinet to his show — to his 9 p.m. show to be completely clear.

I openly admit that I am not a parent. No, I have no right to say what a parent should or should not do with his or her child. Having said that, I pride myself on being pretty damn logical in the ways of the world, thus bringing a teeny baby to a sit-down theater show is very high on the list of Things To Probably Not Do As A Parent.

Maybe the babysitter canceled at the last minute. Maybe, despite its diminutive size, the baby is a really, really big Cosby fan, or maybe the parents are just completely ignorant to the mantra “Children should be seen and not heard.”

It started making that piercing cry babies do, and after about five minutes (and a call out from Mr. Cosby), the father finally walked up the aisle toward the lobby. Only, he didn’t go through the doors — he stopped right behind our section and stood there cooing “Shh.”

Hooray for you that you are a parent and you have what I am sure is a beautiful offspring. However, I was not there to hear your child. I was there to hear Mr. Cosby, as were the other 1,710 people in attendance.

It wasn’t until several people — myself included — threw several scathing glances in his general direction did Daddy Dearest and baby finally exit the theater. Did I mention that this was after nearly 10 minutes?

I don’t think I am being cruel or “a kid hater” writing this. I know parenthood is one of the greatest, most fulfilling things humans can do. I’m just saying that there is a time and place for your Ethans and McKennas. When they are a tiny baby who might be frightened by loud laughter surrounding them, next to people who paid their hard-earned money to laugh at a legend’s musings, is not one of them.
 

About the Author

Nikki M. Mascali began her career at the Weekender as an intern in 2005 - and holds the honor of being the oldest intern the paper ever had. She received her degree in journalism from Luzerne County Community College in 2007 and joined the Weekender staff full-time in 2006 as staff writer/designer before becoming associate editor in 2010. In March 2011, she was named editor.

Nikki has interviewed everyone from Gene Simmons to Richard Simmons, and her articles have run the gamut from local and national theater to music and in-depth reports on the radio industry and negativity in NEPA.

Nikki enjoys writing, quoting movies, traveling and being a diehard foodie - which is why she pens our weekly food and drink column, "Dish."

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