Monday, August 14, 2006

when children attack

We brought M to the services on Saturday. My friend had specifically asked her to come, so we honored that request while knowing that a 4-5 hour ceremony might be a bit tough on her.
M was beautiful. She danced and clapped in awkward timing to the drumming and chanting, and was enchanted by the incredible headdresses and other traditional clothing. At one point she had excused herself to the aisle to move to the sounds on her own (standing up shaking and rocking in the pew was getting taxing for everyone, not to mention the people behind us). I was watching her while another small child also climbed down and started moving towards her....he was a stylish three or so year old, hair gel, a bit of jewelry, your basic hipster. He saunters over to M in a decidedly rico suave fashion and while she watches with open arms and a giant smile he winds up and slaps her in the face. Full on. I jump up and go to her, and after I determine that she was more frightened than wounded I notice myself scanning the room for an open window so I can pitch him out of it. It's not lost on me that I hear his own family snickering. They don't leave their seats. Think. that. over. people. Their response told me more than I ever needed to know about his formulative years. So, I take the now crying M outside for a moment so she can pull herself together, and when we return to the pew a friend leans over and whispers "What a little fucker." which brought me more comfort than it probably should have.

On another note: we managed to see Little Miss Sunshine last night. It is an undeniable MUST.

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