I felt the need to keep these updates separate because I didn’t want to tint the sweetness of Mia’s fourth birthday with the sour of one of our activities this week. So, here goes...
A little bit ago I Tweeted (yes, I have succumbed to the strangeness of Twitter. I actually enjoy following people’s tweets now, something I never, ever thought I would feel!): “In my experience Attila the Hun is 2 and a half feet tall and wears pink underwear.”
That little comment was directed at Maggie, who has not only started coming up with words to form sentences, but also has taken a page from her older sister about mouthing out the direct orders. (It all comes from Mia – never from me!!) But my little tweet did not take into account the fact that Attila the Hun wasn’t just a nasty, grumpy guy. He was also dangerous.
And so begins the next part of the story. I met a better version of Attila than Maggie.
We went to the mall play area. I admit it, it was a bribe.
I have been having difficulty with my growing midriff. I actually look like I have a basketball hidden under my shirt these days. The problem is that all of my maternity pants are in mediums. And so, as difficult as it is for me to admit, child #3 has proven to me that I am no longer a medium. Smalls make me breathless. And Larges... They make me sigh in relief and joy.
The desperate need for new pants has made itself evident the past two Thursday staff meetings at work. There is something about the combination of the chairs and the two-hour meetings and the pants that has turned me into a deranged jackal. God forbid someone try to ask me a question or we have a debate after the first 45 minutes! I am completely unable to answer in a rational manner because all I can think about is the crazy pants that feel like they’re cutting me in two around the waistband! It’s awful. And shameful to admit. But after I sent my second apology winging it’s way to a colleague as a result of my short-tempered response I had to acknowledge that the pants were just too tight and I need to practice better self-control.
And so... The trip to the mall... In Tulsa... And Motherhood Maternity, which has Large pants with lovely, smooth, elastic belly covers that they call a “secret fit.”
I told the girls that if they could be good while I got the pants that I would take them to the play area. They were flawless! I cannot describe how awesome it is to truly enjoy having them around for outings like this, and the special sense of pride I have when all the salespeople in the store compliment them on their manners and behavior! It’s amazing to me!
So, pants procured (I wore them out of the store! Tacky, tacky, tacky, but proof of my desperation!), we headed to the play area. Which happened without event.
Until Attila arrived in the form of a brown-haired 2-year-old in a grey sweater and blue pants. Attila’s older sister was in hot pink pants and a stripy sweater, but she wasn’t the object of my distaste, even though she began to dominate the big slide and kick other kids who got in her way almost immediately.
Little Attila looked around, chose his victim, and just walked up to Maggie and started pushing her. She stopped playing and looked at him like, “Are you kidding me?” then came to get me. I told her to do her best to avoid the little boy and let him bother someone else.
Then I called Mia over.
“Mia, do you see that little boy?” I asked her. She did. “He’s pushing Maggie – will you watch out for her if he’s mean to her?” I figured that since Mia topped him by almost a foot and probably about 10 pounds that this was a safe bet. Maggie, though she’s a tough little bird, is still a bit of a tiny thing in comparison to her age group.
Mia agreed to the plan and all was well.
Meanwhile I watched the mall cops take a man to the ground outside of JC Penny’s for shoplifting. I exchanged pleasantries with the mom on my right who had a little girl who thought Maggie was a baby because she doesn’t have any hair. Then I watched the mom’s face change and she said, “Um... Your daughter... Slide...!”
I looked over to see Mia at the top of the slide with Attila attached to her throat. He had grabbed the neck of her shirt and was yanking her off the slide while raking the fingernails of the other hand across her face.
I cannot describe the absolute fury I felt toward that kid as I sprang from my bench and headed to the slide!
He let go as I was standing up and by the time I got near he had moved several feet away from the slide and I could see that Mia was ok. I looked over at his mom to see what her reaction was...
... And saw her coolly watching the events unfold, completely unconcerned that her child was the playground menace!
I grabbed my hands behind my back so I wouldn’t strangle the little boy and said, “That was very, VERY NAUGHTY. NO! NO!” He looked at me without understanding and definite lack of remorse.
I went to Mia. She looked up and me and simply said, “Mommy, why did he do that to me?”
It was such a challenging situation because, honestly, I wish that Mia had leveled that kid! She was big enough, he was the instigator, and it would make me feel like there was justice in the world. But I had to admit that she did exactly what we’ve taught her to do, to calmly ask him to leave her alone and not follow up violence with violence.
Such a hard place! The end of the story is that Mia had scratches across her face but they weren’t severe and they faded by the time we got home. I didn’t get arrested for child abuse. Attila and his sister left the play area shortly thereafter and that is the end of that story.
It took me about two hours for my blood pressure to return to normal. At this point I’m over being mad at the kid – he’s just a kid. But seriously – why wasn’t the mother involved at all? If your child can’t play nicely with other kids, don’t take them out into a place where they’re going to possibly injure someone... Or if they need the chance to try to interact, WATCH them and TAKE ACTION if they get aggressive!!!
That’s all I have on the self-righteous diatribe at this point. Truthfully, I had no right to speak... While my kids aren’t bullies, I know that other mom’s could point fingers at my own parenting without searching too hard.
But I’m still mad. :)
JJ
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