We're Back, With My First McFight

I met my friend Ali at McDonald's for a playdate, with her kids Curly (4) and Spike (18 months) in tow. This particular McDonald's had a Playland, famous for child enjoyment, while notorious for its germs and child predicaments. Nevertheless, I sent Volcano and Monkey on their way once they had each finished an ample amount of Chicken McNuggets.

Ali and I had just settled in for a nice chat when Volcano came out of the Playland slide and ran over to me. "That girl hit me," he said, pointing to a girl who had recently emerged and ran over to her mother sitting at a nearby table.

"Maybe she just tapped you," I said, smiling at the mom. "She wants to play with you."

"No," Volcano insisted. "She hit me. Hard."

I smiled again at the nearby mother, who was watching intently, and turned back to Volcano. "Show me how she hit you," I suggested, holding out my arm. Volcano, eager for the permission to hit me, slapped me vigorously on the arm. Ow!

"Okay..." I began, trying to think of what to do. "Just tell her that you didn't like that and to please stop."

The nearby mom rolled her eyes and guided her daughter over to Volcano. "I guess we have to apologize to the little boy, because his feelings got hurt," she said sarcastically.

I shrugged. "I'm sure it was an accident."

The little girl just stood in front of Volcano without saying a word. He looked at me. "Just go play," I mouthed, and he was off again. The other mother threw me a fake smile and returned to her seat, rolling her eyes again to her friend.

Ali whispered to me, "What was that all about?"

Just then Volcano emerged from the slide again and shouted, "Mommy, that little girl did it again!" He ran over to me and showed me a red mark on his arm.

Supermom remained silent nearby as I examined him. "Just stay away from her," I said, giving him a hug. Again he went off to play.

A few minutes later we heard I high-pitched scream, then intense crying. This time it was Monkey, coming out of the slide holding on to her head. "Hair!" she sobbed. "Hair!"

"What is going on?!" I asked, grabbing Monkey and holding her close.

Curly and Volcano started talking at once. "That same little girl pulled her hair!" they shouted, pointing again to the culprit at the nearby table.

Supermom quietly guided her little girl back to their table. I waited for some sort of apology, or at least an explanation. After a few minutes, I turned to Ali and said angrily, "This is ridiculous. I'm leaving."

She began packing up her things too when we overheard Supermom say loudly, "Make sure to stay away from those kids."

That made Ali stop. "Is something wrong?" she asked, looking at Supermom in the eye.

She looked at Ali innocently and said, "I was just telling my daughter to stay away from your children, since there's obviously some sort of conflict."

"Good," I said with a smile, glad she was making some sort of effort to discipline her child. "Thank you."

"I mean," she continued. "I guess my daughter is being aggressive, or maybe your kids are just over-sensitive."

This made me stop and turn to her. "Way-way-wait a minute," I said. "Now there was no need to start name-calling. I didn't say anything when your daughter hit my son. And I didn't say anything when she did it a second time. Nor did I say anything when she pulled my daughter's hair. But I will not let you sit there and label my children. You don't even know them."

Supermom's friend stood up and said snidely, "Maybe your kids are over-sensitive because their mother is."

"Are you serious?" I asked them, looking around incredulously. "You're blaming my kids for what your daughter did to them? Unbelievable!" I continued to pack up my things as I shook my head. "My daughter's 2 years old. When she gets hurt, she cries. That's what 2-year-olds do."

That's when Ali stepped in, "If you had just taught your daughter some manners, this wouldn't have happened in the first place," she told Supermom.

Both of the girls blew up, talking over each other in a rage. "You have no right--" "How dare you judge us--" "Who are you to tell us how to raise our kids--"

Ali just shrugged. "Your little girl should've just apologized, and this whole thing would be over."

"This is ridiculous, Ali." I said, grabbing her arm. "Let's just go."

We began walking out, the girls still yelling behind us, when another mother nearby said, "Ladies, there are still children in here..." I guess she was afraid we'd start cussing or come to blows or something.

Ali pointed at Supermom and her little girl. "I know," she said. "So you better watch out for her."

Once again, I am yelled at by some mother who does not discipline her children. My kids do the right thing, and I still get labelled the bad guy. I just don't understand how some mothers do not take responsibility for their children's actions, and instead blame others, whether it be movies, music, or society in general. It reminds me of the mother who sued McDonald's for making her daughter fat, while she was the one taking her there once or twice a day. Take some responsibility, ladies! I am all for being your own child's advocate, but, come on, right is right and wrong is wrong.