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By   /   October 1, 2012  /   No Comments


The open, alert cartoon eyes of the cherry-red pedal car peering up from the East Hampton swimming pool stood in stark contrast to those of its detained driver – one Lizzie Grubstein, who just minutes earlier had plowed into a group of people waiting to enter the Hamptons hot spot, Giggle.

They say there are eight million stories in the naked city. It only stands to reason that there are just as many in the naked city’s backyard, the Hamptons. But Grubstein’s story – exciting and depraved as it may appear to the uninitiated, elicited nary a mention in the local Hamptons paper.

“If the kid, the kid’s parents, or the pool in which her little pedal car ended up had no connection to a famous person, it would have not piqued the interest of the community,” said Gabe Carlin, a longtime resident of the area. “This kind of incident – involving an unruly, bratty, rich toddler behaving poorly is just far too common.”

“When the story of a remorseless toddler fleeing the scene of a group hit-and-run accident, only to crash through an enormous privacy fence and into a stranger’s swimming pool becomes commonplace, it’s high time to at least attempt to make sense of why these beach brats are growing so out of control,” said child behaviorist Cheryl O’Connor.

So what is it about being surrounded by fabulously wealthy, shallow adults for an entire summer without a single responsibility, little supervision, and a bottomless pocketful of crisp hundred-dollar bills and permissive, often drunk parents, that makes these tykes think that anything goes?

Some think it’s the result of too much sun. Others, a decreased level of fluoride in the water supply. And still others, the effect that cooler evenings have on a child’s disposition. Whatever the cause, it has to stop. For the sake of these young children growing up thinking they are above the law and that the consequences will never catch up to them; regardless of their abhorrent behavior. It has to stop.

Take the incident that took place at the Markashian residence in Southhampton on July 2 of this year. Sixty-Eight-year-old Trevor Killingworth was happily snoozing in his backyard hammock when a heavy, fouled diaper was launched over his fence, landing squarely on his face. Startled and sullied, Killingworth bolted upright, reactivated his hearing aid, and strode to the fence to investigate. The scene before him was one he will not soon forget.

“Thirty, forty kids, none more than five years old, with no regard for anything on that property, just going absolutely crazy. One kid was spraying a hose into an open window – Lord knows how they managed to open it or how long he had been filling that home up with water. Kids asleep in the bushes. Kids painting on the house. But the worst part…you know what the worst part was?” asked Killingworth, choking back tears. “The worst part was that I had promised Betty and Robert (Markashian) that I would watch their house for them while they were in Ireland. The little brats came out of nowhere and in a matter of thirty minutes managed to cause thousands of dollars worth of damage to this property. They asked me to watch their house and I laughed. Nothing ever happens on this street. Or so we thought.”

However dim, there is a light at the end of this tunnel as the summer season is nearing an end; which Begs the question: will these terribly behaved brats reign it back in once back in the big apple, or will they continue to behave in the same horrific manner in which they’ve become accustomed? Well, we’ll just have to wait and see.

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