I felt the heat rise, and my cheeks getting flushed. I felt like such a fool, but still couldn't think of another way to stop the impending doom. I had jumped to my feet and yelled out, perhaps louder than really necessary, "Jonas, don't you dare!" I watched as my enraged 2 year old took hold of the hand of another little boy in the cafe's play area, mouth open, teeth bared.
My outburst had caught him just in time, he dropped the hand and looked at me with a quizzical look, "Something wrong, mommy?" I marched over to the ball pit and simply looked at my two boys. My 3 year old walked slowly over to the table to put his shoes on, no questions asked. Jonas, still puzzled by the turn of events, followed his brother to prepare to leave. I could feel the eyes of the Spanish mothers as they looked our way. I'm not sure my quiet "Discupla" and "Perdoname" was enough to cover the outburst.
It's interesting, and frustrating, to watch the boys' very different ways of dealing with conflict and strangers. Bramwell will most usually back down and give in. Jonas, as experienced today, will fight tooth and nail to get his way. Not that much time between the two birthdays, same parents, same living situation, but still so different.
Needless to say, I'm not sure I can show my face at that cafe for a little while....