sucker punch

this afternoon t2 and i went to the santa monica ymca. i went to work out. he went to try out baby care. it was our first time there and i'm not going to lie - my main motivation is that i can drop him off with the gym sitter for 2 hours for just $4.
so i did, i dropped him off, which was a little like throwing a baby sheep to the wolves because it's total romper room madness.
i instantly thought about the germs and how little he looked compared to the rollicking toddlers and how everyone there was a complete stranger.
i preservered and kept thinking of having my own time, just me and my ipod on the stairmaster (HAVE I LOST MY MIND????). so i handed him over, and i said goodbye and watched through the door as a pack of toddlers tumbled around on the floor and the baby care lady plopped t2 down in an excersaucer and walked away. sigh.
45 minutes later i came back. he looked no worse for the wear. baby care lady was playing with him in her lap and he seemed happy. his face was a little red, but it was kinda hot in there. i asked how he was. baby care lady said fine. i asked if he cried. she said no, not really, only that he'd fussed a little bit. i took him from her, said thanks and left.
on my way out, i stopped at the information desk to ask a question. when i turned to leave, a lady was standing behind me directing her 2-year-old to "apologize to that baby."
huh? i said.
she shruged. oh, my child hit your baby.
um, what? he. hit. who? my baby? THIS baby?
the hitter and i made eye contact. he was cute. scruffy hair. wild eyes. red sneakers.
i wanted to kick the little ankle biter in the mouth.
yeah, she said. the lady told me when i picked him up that he hit your baby.
(that's funny, i thought. she didn't tell me that.)
to her kid, again - apologize to this baby son.
he said he was sorry, more to me than to t2, who i think was actually smiling at him.
i looked at t2's face. it was especially red on one side.
i'm really sorry, she said to me. she had serious remorse in her eyes. and also a little bit of fear only i'm not sure what she was afraid of, my reaction or her own kid, who was now yanking on her purse.
she told me how she told her son that if he did it again he wasn't coming back to the Y. as she spoke to me, her little boy b-lined for the vending machine and started banging he glass.
the first thing i said probably should have been, "oh, no worries. it's ok. kids!" because all children go through a hitting thing and i'm sure someday i'll be her talking to me.
but that wasn't the first thing i said.
instead i blurted, "but it's our first day here."
and then i tried to say it was ok, that he seemed fine, it was no big deal, but it was too late. she already looked like i'd shot her best friend.
i'm so so sorry, she said as she trailed out the door behind her son, who was stuffing cheetoes in his mouth.
i looked at t2, who was smiling at me.
mr. california.
hey, baby. if you're not worried, i'm not worried. he's just a little guy (a mean little bratty brat brat with messy hair) who (picks on little kids because he doesn't feel good about himself) didn't mean to. so let's have a talk now about hitting. we don't hit, we hug. and i stroked his little face and nearly squeezed him to death.
(and then to myself ... 1-2 punch. 1-2 punch. 1-2 punch. southpaw, southpaw, southpaw)