Here's the scene: we're at the Fourth of July celebration at the city park. There are fourteen thousand people in line with us at the Shaved Ice Shack. Shylee's standing to the side of me, Morgan in my arms. It's hot. The girls are fussy. There are literally sweat beads running from my forehead down to my neck. We've been waiting in line for about 10 minutes and I swear on everything that is holy and pure that they served ONE snow cone that entire time. Did I mention it was hot?
Two kids - a boy, about 10, and a girl, maybe 7 - get in line behind us. It appears that they know the boy who has been standing in front of us... in the heat... in the slowest moving line ever. The pools of sweat under my boobs are now so large, there is talk about moving the location of the mud volleyball tournament to my chest.
"Hey," the boy behind says to the boy in front, "can me and my sister cut in front of you? We're dying here, it's so hot!"
Like a good boy, he said no. I wanted to go find his mother and personally congratulate her on raising a kid with morals.
I don't know for sure how much time passed (I did see one more snow cone leave the shack so I'm guessing it was about 20 minutes or so) but at one point Adam turns to me and says, "They did it anyway." I looked in front of me to see the little boy and his sister standing there AHEAD OF US. Oh yes, they did.
Now had it been just Adam and I standing there, I honestly wouldn't have cared that they snuck in front of us. Pick your battles, I always say. However I had two hot, sweaty, quickly-losing-their-patience girls with me who had been waiting in line for, I don't know, six or seven days now. My mascara was running. Shylee was complaining that her hair was getting sunburned. This was no time to be complacent.
So I bent down far enough to ensure that my face would be uncomfortably near the little boy's when I spoke, then I tilted my sunglasses down just enough so my eyes were peeking over the top (you moms know exactly what look I'm talking about) and I said with raised eyebrows, "Excuse me. Did you cut in front of us, or are you just talking to your friend?"
"Uh... um... well...." he stammered.
"Because," I interrupted him before he had a chance to make an excuse, "it isn't very kind to cut in front of people in line."
"Well it's just really hot and my sister and me are really thirsty," he said.
"It is hot, isn't it? We're really thirsty too because we've been waiting in line a VERRRY LONG time. Sometimes it's not fun to wait our turn, but it's the only fair thing to do, huh? So I was just wondering if you were planning on going back to your place in line when you're done talking to your friend."
His eyes were wide with fear (according to Adam, anyway - I think it was the look of guilt). He was silent for a moment then quietly said, "Okay... I guess you can go ahead."
Now, here's where I need your opinion: Adam says this was incredibly rude of me - to scare the poor boy that way. I think it was important for him (and my own kids) to learn that cutting in line isn't the right thing to do. Although I'm sure he'll do it again when the opportunity arises, at the very least he may give it a second thought. So, I think I win this one.
What's really important here is that I get one up on my husband. Whether or not I handled the situation perfectly, the simple fact that I ignored my initial instinct to swat the little shit across the back of the head and tell him to GO TO THE BACK OF THE LINE puts me at least one point ahead, right?