Tell me what you would do in the following situation and then tell me what you think of what actually happened.
Saturday was the annual WVU alumni obligatory family function. Because, they must hold a family function to justify all the happy hours and wine tastings they sponsor and since we know no babysitters, it's the ONE time of the year I can tote my brood while I enjoy some cold ones with people who actually know about The Dungeon and start spontaneously chanting "Let's Go Mountaineers". I don't think I need to explain how very much I look forward to it every year.
See that guy? That's the new football coach. The football coach was in our crowded little Texas bar. Since I know most (or none) of you are from West Virginia, I should just explain that The Mountaineers are our state's Steelers and the coach, well, the coach is the King of our state. So, yeah, it was a good time.
Until the shit hit the fan.
Let me start at the beginning:
We got to the bar early because we knew we'd need our own table since there are now FIVE of us. Luckily for us, the girl in charge sectioned off family tables so those
Anyway, so I'm feeding my herd and drinking some beer and trying to hold a decent conversation when the husband starts completely freaking out because the aggie next to me is completely freaking out and before I knew it he had taken Adam to the bathroom leaving me wondering what the hell had just happened.
My sweet three year old spit on Mountaineer Wanna-be. Sort of.
You see, Jacob and Adam have this new little thing. They like to blow spit bubbles. You know, use their own saliva to blow a big bubble out of their mouths. They have contests. Adam usually wins. Another wonderful skill for which I am paying tuition, but that's not the point. Adam likes to come up to me and give me a kiss and then try and blow a bubble on me. I act all disgusted and wipe my face and then give him a big regular kiss and it's all fun and games. For us. You know because I wipe poopy butts, a little saliva doesn't bother me. It does, however, bother other people.
Miss Aggie did spend a while talking and playing with Adam before the food came. He seemed to like her and at one time she actually let him wear her Mountaineer bracelet so to him this is code for we-must-be-friends-now. And what have we taught our children about sharing and being kind and thankful? Adam decided to show his thanks by playing spit bubble kisses with his new friend. FYI: Aggies do not like spit bubble kisses.
Of course then she freaks out and tells Derick what happened and he proceeds to freak out because he doesn't know much about spit bubble kisses and just takes Aggie's word that my baby spit a big fat loogy on her Mountaineer shirt. The Mountaineer shirt she shouldn't have been wearing anyway, but whatever. By the time I figure out what has really happened, my husband has offered to buy Aggie Bitch a brand new twenty-six dollar tee-shirt (they sell them at the door) although there was not so much as a mark on the one she was currently sporting. And you know what? She accepted his offer. So he bought her the tee shirt I was planning on buying for myself WITH THE MONEY I MADE OFF THE RICH BIBLE STUDY LADIES. She was standing right there all scowly-faced while he came over to rummage through my wallet all jittery-like because he didn't have any cash "to give to this poor lady our son has accosted" I think I actually said "WTF?" but you know, not like that. And if that weren't bad enough? He gave her the change left over "for her trouble". AND SHE TOOK IT!
I really wanted to make a scene, but I wouldn't do that in front of fellow Mountaineers. An Aggie wasn't worth wasting what was otherwise a pleasant afternoon. I ordered another beer and talked hometown business with the coach (you know, because he's from my hometown and we went to the same small high school and we know the same peeps, makes me sort of WV royalty right?)
So when I get into the car without my cool tee shirt or Future Mountaineer onesie that I know the internetz would've loved to see on my gorgeous tot, I casually ask the husband "WTF?" while following Aggie in her brand new Lexus out of the parking lot. I will spare you the gory details, but it turned into Almost-Divorce 2008 which made for a wonderful drive through downtown traffic.
As I tried to explain to the husband-who-would-not-listen, I was not mad at him for offering to right the situation, although that amount of dough for a little bit of dried slobber was pretty excessive. I was LIVID at Aggie for taking it. Doesn't that go against some Mama code? I mean, would you, as a Mom or Dad, take money and hand-outs for the actions of a small child that did not cause you bodily or property harm? I mean, if he'd have knocked her teeth out with a bat or smeared her Lexus with a sharpie, oh yeah, I'd be pulling out the check book, but a spit bubble kiss? Buying her a beer, yeah, buying her a shirt and some pocket money, no.
So, wise internet, what is the parent code of conduct here?
**And if you happen to actually be an Aggie, I am sure you are a perfectly wonderful person, it's just Aggie's can't be Mountaineers as we have clearly been shown.**