She may be cute, but she’ll gouge your eyes out over an M&M.

Today my sweet widdle punkin was THAT kid.

I took her to the small play area in the mall to burn off that sugar high before heading off to pick up Doodicus from school. There were two other kids there, both girls. One was the same age and the same size as Aitch. The other was  about the size of a one year old or so, but I think that was due to some kind of developmental delay as she just seemed to be probably closer to 18 – 20 months old. Either way, she was a tiny little thing with bird-like bones.

A poor night’s sleep, attributed to a cold, plus being significantly past her nap time made her like a monkey hopped up on crack. She went up to the older girl’s father and just started chatting him up. “My name is Aitch. I’m two! See that big girl. She’s my mommy!” and then she’d run off to jump on the rubber lion or hippo or climb inside the tree and then UP the tree. The other two-year old would try to follow her but dad was a bit of a helicopter and would pull her down as she started up.

The Tiny Toddler screeched and ran (always on her tippy-toes) around the small, padded confines of the play area. At one point she climbed up the three stairs to make her way down the slide. Except Aitch suddenly was pushing her down the steps to go in front of her. I stopped my texting (shuddup, I was paying attention) and scooped up Aitch and reprimanded her while reminding her to take turns.

Then she started climbing the tree again and so did the other girl, only to be yet again pulled down by Helicoptor Dad. After a few laps running from one end to the other, Aitch ducked inside the tree and sat on the floor to catch her breath. Following her was Tiny Toddler who sat down in front of Aitch on the floor inside the big rubber tree. That’s when I saw Aitch kick Tiny Toddler, which elicited a gasp from her mother standing next to me watching.

I quickly went over, pulled Aitch from the tree, and told her that she was done playing and we were leaving. I told her to apologize to the little girl, which she did, but screamed and cried the whole time we walked away from the play area to the exit.

Now I KNOW I did the right things in removing her from scene and making her apologize, but still. When the roles were reversed (and they were when Doodicus was that age as he always seemed to be on the receiving end of an aggressive player), I thought the other child’s parents were assholes for not reining in their little deviant. Now I’m the asshole parenting that deviant. My sweet widdle punkin deviant.

What? I always look this cute before delivering a round-house kick.