I know I am completely over reacting to this. I'm allowing that dad to control me in a way. It's so ridiculous and part of me can look at it so rationally, but a bigger part of me is still very upset. Like beyond normal upset and bordering on anxiety upset. It's so ridiculous.
I suppose I can blame some of it on the raging hormones going on in my body. But a lot of it is just me. I hate confrontation. I'm not quick with a response to things like that, then I can't let it go after it's gone. This is the kind of thing that five years from now I will remember and it will still upset me. I let it run over and over in my head; replaying the scene with all the different things I could have/should have said.
For example, should I have responded with something like "gosh, it must be so nice to know your kid has never hit anyone, what have you done to raise such a great little boy" in my sincerest voice? Would he have picked up on the irony? Or is it possible that there are kids out there that have never in their lives hit another child?
Or perhaps when he told me I should do something about my kid I could have sat down at his table and agreed and asked him to please tell me what to do, that I'm desperate to know what to do, and since he's an expert I would appreciate whatever wisdom he could spare me.
Or maybe, I could have told him that his kids lispy little baby speech patterns were drilling a hole through my ear and in to my brain so I was forced to tell my son to whop him one. And wow, my son minds me so well. I must be doing a great job with him.
I think the irony of this is that The Boy was really having a great day. He knew I was upset on our drive home and he asked me what was wrong. I told him that when he hit the other little boy that the boys daddy was upset and yelled at me, and it made me feel bad to know that he hurt someone. So when TB got in the house he sat right down in his time out spot and told me he was taking his time out for hitting.