m,

Can we pleeease talk about the beauty of Casanova’s tantrum? I’m not sure anyone out there appreciates it fully. I want to watch it again, and possibly Gretchen’s epic backpedaling, complete with the judge’s snarky, bemused and wondering faces during judging. Oh, and maybe Tim Gunn’s final speech, one more time. I like this season. I like the 90 minutes. I didn’t think I would, but really I could watch hours of footage if we’re being honest.

There was an *incident* at the park yesterday. You’d be proud that I stood up for myself, although of course later I thought about so many other things I could have made clear(er) and it would have been nice to have been calmer. The pillar of calm in the face of ridiculous, erroneous hostility. But apparently I receive false accusations, especially aggressive ones, somewhat like Marty McFly being called “chicken.” Not well. So there was a little boy smacking N.Lo on the playground equipment. K.Lo notified me about it first, and then I watched him do it myself. There were no adults around that were clearly with this child, much less telling him to stop. So obviously I had to say something to him. I wasn’t mean about it, although I did have to chase him down a bit, since he wasn’t interested in hearing what I had to say. I simply said, “Hey, buddy – do you see that little boy in the green shirt? You can’t treat him like that because he’s little. Understand?” He ran away to find his grandma, who incidentally was sitting directly in front of the crime scene. Didn’t hear or see anything else. But then, as they were leaving the park, maybe 10 minutes later, she approaches me and says, “Don’t you dare ever threaten my grandson again.”

What the whaaat?

Hello?

So the Marty McFly “chicken” button immediately goes off in my brain and I see red. I hate, hate, haaaate someone telling me – much less aggressively – that I have done something I have not. But I told Mad Grandma in no uncertain terms that I did not threaten her grandson, would not say anything to someone else’s kid that I wouldn’t say to my own. That I was protecting my little one from being smacked. That it happened right in front of her. (And where was she? is what I should have said.) And she was all, “You should have come talked to the adult first, he’s only four.” Umm – except a) my kid’s only TWO and b) there were no adults stepping in. Should I have gone around and run a survey as to whose child this was? And where’s the 4-year-old getting the word “threatened,” anyway? That one’s sure not in my own 4-year-old’s vocabulary. I’m just saying.

Reassessing later, had I known which adult was attached with the kid, I certainly would have approached the adult first. Obviously. I can see her point in that respect, although I don’t feel like my actions (protecting my kid in a reasonable manner) were wrong. What bothers me most is the aggressive conversation opener. It could have gone a lot differently if she had just asked what happened. I mean, I know I look like a super-threatening individual who would terrorize a 4-year-old. But still.

Grrr.

Conversation closer: “I don’t appreciate your accusing me of threatening your grandson, and you need to have a talk with him about truth.”

So there. Pbbbt.

Do I really not talk enough anymore about bizarre encounters of the world, as you suggested? I must ponder. I’ll be more mindful about sharing my interpersonal snarktastic moments, I promise.

Bought a new, non-citrusy tablecloth for the kitchen. It’s neutral. This weekend: scraping down the porch railing and repainting! And also possibly the shutters and shhhh… I want to paint the front door red. Don’t tell J.Lo. Black porch railing, black shutters and RED door. Kerpow. But that might wait til another day when he’s not looking.

love to you. happy friday.

pen