While I have posted that I hate misbehaving children in restaurants, I do consider highway rest stops to be pretty much free-fire zones. I generally ignore just about everything in places like that.
Kids do not travel well and outbursts are to be expected. I have to give parents a lot of slack in situations like this.
Anyway, a kid about three or four broke away from the table and the father sprang from his seat and in a gentle, carefully calculated flying tackle snagged the kid and sat him back down in his seat and reprimanded him in a gentle but very firm way. There was no beating, no excessive force and to tell the truth the father was a gentle but understanding creature. He had a pretty good sense of humor because he saw what was happening and didn't let it get to him and he didn't over-react.
This was a man that reminded me of my own father and is the kind of man that God put on this earth to simply do one thing. He was put here to raise kids.
Of course, some meddlesome do-gooder woman jumped up and told the guy she didn't like the way he was treating his children and told him she didn't like seeing children abused.
While I am generally loathe to but into other people's fights, this seemed to be a battle worth fighting.
"Butt out, Lady." I snapped. "The man knows what he is doing. I hate squalling kids in public and he is simply disciplining his children in a way I consider right and proper. He broke no rules. He was simply doing the right thing."
I turned to the father. "Good work! I love seeing a father take responsibility for the conduct of his children! You have my support 100%!"
The father beamed. "Thank you," he said. Then he chuckled. "If they would take kids that age into the military it would make my job a whole lot easier!"
I out and out laughed and turned back to the woman. "I would imagine I have seen your children before."
"Where?" she demanded.
"The Jerry Springer show," I snapped back.
Her husband blew up. "You can't talk to my wife that way!" I want an apology!"
"How does it feel to want?" I calmly asked back.
The man was a little bit bigger than I was and about 15 years younger. In a fair fight at Gold's Gym under the rules for the governence of boxing, laid out by the Marquis of Queensbury I suppose I might have had my hands full. Of course, I have a terrible sense of sportsmanship.
"Seems I am dealing with another person that's not doing their job," I answered.
"What do you mean by that?" he demanded.
"If you had slapped that bitch silly a few times she would stay out of a man's business and allowed him to raise his children properly," I shot back. I looked at the crossword I was working while I was eating my salad. Then I looked up at the father of the recaltricent child. "Need a three letter word, last three letters 'I, m, p that means coward."
"Wimp," said the father. He snickered.
"Thanks." and I feigned filling my puzzle.
"You still owe my wife an apology," said the meddler's husband. Some guys just don't get it.
"Eat your pizza," I replied calmly. "You are a growing boy and need all of your vitamans and minerals."
"I still demand an apology," said the husband.
"Ain't gonna happen. The woman got what she had coming." I shot back."On the other hand I could apologize for being untruthful. I can think of a lot more names that fit her. You will not like them." I said in a very cheerful tone.
I looked at my crossword and turned to the father of the kids. "Need a word that ends in 'u, n, t,"
He snarfed. Coca Cola came out of his nose. He looked at me agape for a second. I thought he was going to wet his pants on the spot. The grin he gave me told me I was his friend for life.
Then he stood up to his full height. He was no longer the easygoing man with a sense of humor that had just casually and gently picked up a small child. This man was a monster well over 6 and a half feet tall and very well muscled.
He looked at the meddler in a very menacing sort of way. Then he hooked his thumb toward me and in a menacing way he said, "I support this man 100%. You heard him. Eat your pizza."
They ate their meals in total silence and left.
When they were gone the father looked at me. "Thanks, Pal," he said.
I looked at him sternly. He wasn't getting off the hook based on some sort of sympathy because he was a guy stuk with three kids crap.
"You earned it." I said, seriously. "Being a father is a serious job and you are doing it well. Better than most." That being said, I stuck my hand out. "Piccolo"
"John," he replied. We ahook hands warmly and he returned to his brood.
Sometimes ya gotta help each other out or the assholes win.
my other blog is: http://officerpiccolo.blogspot.com/ http://piccolosbutler.blogspot.com/