Wednesday, August 30, 2006
Well, I am Irish, you know.
I am officially freaked the freak out.
Today was perfectly gorgeous, what with that Arctic cold front that blew through yesterday and plunged our temperatures down from 100+ ° F. to a bone-chilling 93°. (That’s about 38 C down to 34 C for you metricians.) Naturally, since we hadn’t been able to be in sunlight for the last 6 weeks, I decided to take the boys to the city, to a park on the southwest side, and let them romp & play.
It was all good for about 45 minutes. There were a number of elementary age kids playing and a few older ones sitting around looking tragically criminal. I was helping Littlest Boy in his climbing adventures; really just spotting him for my own peace of mind as the little lemur can climb up a brick wall if I let him.
Bigglest Boy was about 50 yards away climbing a tree, and Middlest Boy was chatting up some little girl (and that kid’s got some game, if I’m any judge of 5-year-olds) and all seemed peaceful.
I was just getting Littlest Boy off of the playscape when I heard something and turned to see five or six of the older kids around Bigglest Boy. One of them, who looked about 16 and quite chunky, turned and punched Bigglest Boy right smack in the face. I yelled “Hey!” as Bigglest Boy went down, screaming and holding his hands over his face. The other kids swarmed over him, looking for all the world like a pack of jackals. I left Littlest Boy, yelling at Middlest Boy to stay with his little brother, and covered the 50 yards to Bigglest Boy in about 5 seconds.
“Get off of him!” I said, pulling on the kid who punched him.
“Fuck you, bitch,” he said, not turning his head around to look at me.
Something red, like a curtain of rage, went over my vision. “Fuck me?” I said, with a little laugh. “I don’t think so. Fuck you!” I took a running leap, and jumped on him, grabbing him by the ears, face, hair, and I think a bit of his nose, twisting his head around and shoving his body into the dirt.
I took a few punches from him, and he probably outweighed me by a good fifty pounds or more, but between my momentum and my hands in the soft fleshy parts of his face, I got him off of Bigglest Boy and pulled him away.
A few moms and a dad came running and got both of us separated and to our feet. Bigglest Boy was screaming with his hands over his eyes. I let them know what I saw; the punk’s nose was bleeding and I had a slight cut on my lip. I got Bigglest Boy out of the way and didn’t really look back to see what damage I might have done.
I was gathering up kids and our supplies when a mom cornered me.
“You hit my kid?” she asked.
“He punched my kid. In the eyes – ” I started.
“That don’t make no difference. You hit my kid and I press charges.”
“Bring it,” I said. “No, wait, let me help.” I dug out my cell phone. “Here. I’ll dial the police for you. You tell them what happened, in your own words. Don’t leave anything out,” I added.
“I don’t need no police,” she said, “you just stay the fuck away from my kid.”
I looked at her. “I bet you don’t,” I said, my voice low. “If a 160 lb teenage kid hits my kid in the eye, I will chew through you, your family, and six cops just to stop him. Not only is your kid bigger and meaner than mine, he’s stupid as you if he thinks I’m scared of either one of you.”
“He ain’t no teenage, he only eleven,” she argued.
“Well, then he’s fat, too.” I turned and immediately got everyone into the van. I was seething. I called Monsieur and he set up for us to meet at the pedi’s office.
Turns out that kid, the eleven-year-old, is on probation. He isn’t allowed in the parks without his mom being there, and she wasn’t even anywhere near him when he punched Bigglest Boy. I should have called the cops.
Bigglest Boy has a patch on his eye and we’ll have to put this anti-biotic cream goo into it twice a day. It’s agony for him, he can’t see or even open the eye because it’s so sensitive to light, but the doctor says he should be okay in a couple of days.
I’m still furious.
I don’t think Bigglest Boy knew what I was capable of. Actually, I don’t think I knew, either. But the kids sure are responsive and obedient tonight.
I have bruises on my arm where someone grabbed me, a cut on my lip and I’m sore as hell. And I am freaking.