Parenting

Something awful happened to me recently.

I was at a bagel place, and Crabtot was melting down as she often does in public eateries. Those of us with spunky children know that while we adore their crabacious, sassy personalities, we adore them much more when they're at preschool and might adore them even more if these preschools would start becoming useful already and turn into boarding schools. (Boarding preschools! What a brilliant idea!! But that's another post.)

Back to the scene: Crabtot was pulling a fit in this bagel place and demanding all sorts of extras on top of her chocolate milk and cookie treat. Then she got to this point in her tantrum that I simply cannot bear, where she jumps up and down and shakes her head and pokes her tongue in and out of her mouth while producing a decidedly unattractive gurgling noise, as though a poltergeist were being wrenched from her small frame.

So I grabbed her hands, dropped to my knees, and said in a stern cut-out-your-nonsense voice, complete with hissing angry-mommy noise: "Stop it right now! What a terrible noise!" And then Crabtot said something naughty back to me and then I said something along the lines of "Do you see these people around us? They are trying to have their lunch. And they do not want to hear children shouting and being rude!" Or words to that effect.

So basically I gave my kid a little lecture. And this woman looks at me, then looks at Crabtot with a pleading saccharine expression on her face, and she says the following, very loudly: "Awwwww.....she's too young to understand all that! She's just a widdle thing [yes, she spoke in a baby voice]. She doesn't understaaaaand you, do you, poooor widdle girl?!"

To which I only just managed to respond with a testy "She's not too young for discipline." To which the woman continued with her "Oh, poor thing!" talk. She cringed from imaginary blows to her own heart caused by my mean-momminess, and continued to do so until I had backed out of the restaurant, embarrassed and outraged. Obviously I should have met her halfway with a gentle "Mind your own beeswax, you rude cretinous toss!" But we rarely say what we want in the heat of the moment. And truly, I was floored.

I can't prove it but in my gut I felt this woman was a mom herself, and as such thought she should tell me how to mom my own. To her mind, Crabtot was too widdle to hear stern Crabmommy words. Ladies, I ask you, even if she had been right, how could she have had the gall to interfere? In a public place, no less! I mean, I wasn't exactly pulling Crabtot's hair while puffing on my crack pipe! (That stuff I reserve for home only.) Judging my momming? Be my guest! But keep it to yourself. Or put it on your blog. Only, don't stick it to me in public.

Trust me lady, Cwabtot isn't too widdle to know what she's doing when she's naughty. Nor is she too young to understand Mom's methods of discipline. I know you surely know better, being a complete stranger to us, but worry not: Crabtot can hold her own. After all, we're talking a kid who just promised to "boil" me.

Any of you have a busybody tell you what to do with your kids in public?

I'm still so appalled by this. Commiserate with me.

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