Smack Down at the Chick-Fil-A

I just got home from the closest I've come to an actual fist-fight in at least 11 years. I know, some of you weirdos are thinking, "I've never been in a fight." Lucky you. Now go read someone else's blog and leave us normal people alone.

I was sitting outside the playarea at Chick-Fil-a, because unlike every other playscape designer in America, they don't have tables nor allow food into the play area. By the way, their playscapes are also 1/3-1/4 the size of most other playscapes. Not ever my choice of a place to take Will, but you can only expect an adult to eat so much BK and McD in a lifetime . . . and I have well exceeded those limitations.

From where I was sitting, I saw Will playing with a game on the wall. This girl comes up and just sort of tryes to wiggle in between Will and the game. And my son, oh he makes a mama proud, pushed her away and went back to playing. I'd like to classify that he did not hit her, nor even push her exceedingly hard. It was more of a this is my game, I am playing it, and I'm not putting up with your crap. Truth to be told, a feeling I wholly support.

It is hard to tell the line between raising your son to be punished and set upon by bullies . . . and raising a man who stands up for what he believes in and takes crap from no one. So when it comes to things like this, if I'm in the room, I usually ask Will to apologize and then let the child know "why" Will reacted that way. Then I let them know that in 2 minutes Will should let the other child have a turn. It's funny, because I am such a HUGE person on having children (and parents) behave in a polite way on public grounds. I even wrote a "how to" about it a few weeks back that has been well accepted.

But I wasn't in there. The little girl came out of the play area and told her mom that some boy "hit" her. Her mother, a stressed-looking woman in her late 40s with several children around her that was not sitting in view of the playarea, immediately jumped up and ran to the entrance pulling her daughter behind her. "Who," she practically screamed. "Who hit you," she demanded of the little girl, "I'll deal with him."

Like hell, I thought as I rose and followed them into the playarea. The little girl pointed out Will and the mom was set to launch. I said from behind her, "He did push her but she started it."

Their was an older child in their and the woman asked her if the little girl "pushed" Will. The older child tried to tell her mom what happened but the harbinger of death wouldn't listen.

She turns and sneers at me, "I might have believed you if it had been any of my other children. But not ____. She's not the least bit aggressive." Then she grabs her daughter and starts back to her table.

I was first stunned that this piece of white-trash talking, pot-smoking, want-to-be, would dare talk to me this way. "My son, did not attack your daughter." I told her as she walked away. Intending to tell her his actions had been proceeded by her daughters actions.

When she turns and smirks at me, "Well," she drawled, "you would say that your his mother."

"Goes for you too lady."

She told her daughter, "Go on back and play. If he hurts you again, I'll do something about it."

At this point, my mom was trying to break back out and jump on the bitches back. But I decided to take the higher road. Not much higher, but you have to take your victories where you can get them.

I walked back to the play area and opened the door so I could talk to Will and said in a normal (carrying) tone of voice. "Will, please be careful with that little girl honey. Her moms something of a bitch and I'd hate her to attack you."

Then I calmly went back to my seat and started working on my writing. I could hear her STOMPING across the floor as she went back to the playarea and yelled in the door -- I'm so much more classy than she, I didn't yell -- "You stay away from that mean boy!"

Oh, I thought, with a smile. That hurt. Right. I continued to work on my writing and check on Will's progress every couple of minutes.

The shrew from hell made a point of walking over every 3-5 minutes and demanding her child go up in the top to play and not play with the mean boy. How old was she anyway?

I went to check on Will about 10-15 minutes later and he and the little girl were playing hide-and-seek. Laughing and having a good time. I reminded Will to be nice and went back to writing. The woman made someone come clean a table closer to the playarea so she could watcher her daughter, because some people weren't watching their children and her daughter had gotten hurt. Right!

She also kept up the yelling threats for her daughter not to play with the mean boy and to go up to the top layer. I could tell she had excellent parenting skills from the need to repeat the order constantly; and my her daughters completely ignoring it.

All it all, I didn't think I did too bad. Yes, there was a moment when the time to actually hit an adult was close as hand. And growing up in the family I did, when the moment came, I would have hit to win. I may look like a short, chubby, middle age stay-at-home mom . . . but there is street fighter like you would not be live just below the surface. And the surface was thin today.

I doubt the lady went home thinking she was lucky, but she was. I came home, put Will down for a nap, had an Amaretto (or two), and got if off my chest in this blog. I still remember what it feels like take out the anger on a person though, and I doubt she does.