We had more excitement than we were planning on tonight.
Seven couples and their kids went out to dinner tonight. There were too many kids in the game room of the restaurant and several of them started pushing the kids they weren’t with around. Of course, they were already doing that with the kids they were with. I am not going to say my son was blameless because I am sure he wasn’t. No matter how often I say to move away from someone when they want to fight, they don’t listen to me. Even when they get pounded.
Tonight the fight, according to my son, was between a kid and my son. The kid pushed. My son pushed. The kid hit. My son hit. I will say that he is not coordinated and when they were scrapping it is quite possible someone else got hit. I will say that he didn’t do that on purpose.
My son comes in the room where we are. He’s been fighting. My husband tells him to stay there. Sit down. Take a break. Fighting is not a good thing.
Then into the room comes a guy, buff and belligerent, asking for my son’s father. When my husband stands up he says that my son beat his younger son up. His younger son does have a bloody lip. My husband says that my son said he hit the bigger kid, but not the littler one. The guy says my son is a liar, that my husband isn’t “doing anything about it” and that the two of them should go outside and duke it out.
Okay, it is possible that my son was lieing. But how does he figure my husband isn’t doing anything about it? My son is obviously sitting by himself at a table in a room full of grownups. Not the place most kids like to hang out.
Even given that my son may be lieing, however, what is the point of this guy beating up my husband for it? And it wasn’t just one guy with too much beer. His wife follows him in. Another friend comes in. His wife brings all their kids. They want to see the fight. What kind of lunacy is that? Your husband is cursing and wanting to fight with a guy because his kid fought with your kid and you bring the children to watch this?
I’m thinking the guy is going to hit my husband right there. My younger son is sure of it. So is my husband. On top of that, he’s worried the guy might take him out and then go after my son. (My son is 5’1″ and weighs about 100 pounds. His son was about 4’6″ and weighs about 100 pounds. It wasn’t fat either.) So here’s this guy, already bigger than my husband, who looks like he may be going after my son. After he takes out my husband.
I’m thinking concealed carry laws suck and we should have a gun with us. Even though I know pulling out a gun would have either escalated the situation or ended it.
But you know what something like this does? It lets you know that you are not in control. That no matter how careful you are, how much you do to make sure your life and your kids are going in the right direction, all it takes is someone angry enough to hurt you to make you realize that you are not in control. The guy didn’t even have to hit anyone.
One of the people at the table got up to talk to his friend. His friend started threatening the guy. The guy’s wife got between them with her two year old baby and the friend kept pushing her with his body to get to her husband. Okay, I wouldn’t take my kid into that, but what was the friend thinking? I’m going to push this lady and her baby out of the way and then go after big mouth?
There was a lot of cursing. Some pushing, by grownups of grownups. Ugly vicious comments. (Not by our side, isn’t that a miracle?) One of the couples are immigrants. The wives of the two belligerent guys told them to go back to their own country. We actually had three immigrants out of the eighteen grownups. But they’re immigrants. This IS their country.
It’s an hour later and I am still shaking. We left the restaurant while they were still there. I watched for a car following us home. There wasn’t one. But when we got home a truck pulled into our neighbor’s driveway, sat there for a few minutes and left. I was terrified. I was also thinking, okay, if I shoot him in my house I’m not at fault. But I really don’t want my husband to go to the hospital just so I can shoot the guy.
Sometimes it bites to be alive.