Playroom Politics II

Shame on me.

I'm THAT Mom.

The one I chastise in the Playroom for her unruly children.

I walk in, haughtily, knowing my son would never be as cuckoo as the other strange children there...knowing that Hunter is well-behaved and conscientious...knowing that I would definitely let him know if he was out of line before he even made it that far...and like usual, he proves me wrong.

First I get one of these comments: "He's not walking yet?"

And I'd like to say: "No. Despite the fact that he outweighs your scrawny spawn by 7 lbs, he is barely 11 months old. However, he does have a full set of teeth and can eat a NY strip steak before your baby finishes gumming a banana to a pulp."

But I don't say that. Because it's not a competition. And because that would make me look like a hormonal, defensive pregnant lady. Which I'm clearly not. 

Instead I move on into the room, scoping out a place to sit so I can attempt to rest for a few minutes while Hunter entertains himself with the new toys and new play-friends.

First Strike--> Hunter (who has eaten half his weight in Gourmet Three-Cheese Ravioli just minutes before arriving) corners a little girl at the play-kitchen and steals her goldfish crackers. Fine. I understand. He likes to snack. Out of control? Nah! Just still a little hungry. I apologize to her mother and take him to another part of the room.

Second Strike --> Hunter tackles a 3-4 year old little boy who is sliding on the playground set. He then sits on the kids' legs and claps his hands and smiles at me, as though he is proud of himself for pulling a UFC move in the Playroom. Mortified, I go apologize to his parents and tell Hunter "NO!" and take him to another corner in the room where there are less temptations. 

Third Strike --> Hunter is playing with a little girl, about 2 years old, in the crawly-tube. I notice they don't come out. When I bend down to take a peek inside, I see him holding her face and sloppily kissing her. I look further down the tube and see her mother also peeking in to see what the hold-up is. I call an apology across the tubey-thing to her mother and mumble something about her daughter being too cute to resist to my little Romeo. I drag Hunter out by his ankles.

And we're out.

I do the walk of shame to the door with Hunter squirming the whole way out, oblivious to the dishonor he's caused to our family name. 

Okay maybe it's not that bad but I have a sneaking suspicion I will be the Mom with the bumper sticker "My kid can beat up your Honor Student" emblazoned on the back of her minivan. 

Just sayin'.