Of when mamma lost her temper

As most folks will tell you, mamma is the type of mealy mouthed creature who couldn't say boo to a rabbit. Brat has that figured out and mamma has been at the receiving end of much outrage and outright disobedience and open revolt in recent times. Incidents escalating over the past couple of weeks to the point where mamma's normally tepid simmer had reached boil. Of course, kind folks who had in previous incarnations been at the receiving end of mamma's nuclear level blow outs had also conspired to keep the brat ignorant about the need to avoid mammas temperature escalate byond boiling point.
It was a long Sunday. Mamma was already gritty eyed with the loss of an afternoon nap. And that, as Pappa would have informed brat, had he cared to ask, was treading on dangerous waters. A mamma un napped on a weekend is a mamma who is as surly as grizzly poked out of a nice winter hibernation by insensitive trekkers wandering into caves. The brat went down for his dance class. Surly mamma paced while he was put through his paces. And when it was done Mamma hoped to get back home to a steaming cup of tea. The brat, living upto his moniker, had other ideas. Maybe life would have been different had I called him the angel child on the blog. Maybe he would have sat still and paid attention and stayed put when requested.
Anyway, the brat raced up to the garden. Which is blazing five pm full creek side exposed zilch shade area of sun fury. Mamma yelled and yelled but brat was having none of it. Refused to get his self back to shadier precints. The sun settled squat on the horizon and sank down while mamma shielded her non sunblock applied face with a puny extension cord board.
The lights in the garden came on. Still no truck and outright disobedience. And open and loud defiance of instructions to get down from the slide right now. And as a coup de resistance outright ignoring of mamma. Finally simmer reached boil, mamma grabbed a surprised brat as he zoomed to the bottom of the slide and planted him some hurting ones on the butt. Forgetting her regular rule of not whacking the critter in front of his peers. And dragged him begging and pleading back home. And refusing to speak to him.
The brat was horrified. Not by the whacks, this mamma has given harder ones but by the complete rejection. Blabbered apologies. Clutched mamma's feet. Begged her to speak with him. Mamma fed him, changed him, all without speaking a word to him. Finally, the brat sat silently in a corner sobbing. "Mammaz nodtalkin to me," he replied when the Pappa went to enquire.
Mamma finally took him on her knee and gave him a talk about why it is not done to ignore mamma. To be openly defiant. In public. Or at home. And how it feels when someone ignores you.
Did the message sink in? Mamma doesn't know. She hopes it did. What she does know is that those tears hurt her much more than the brat would ever know.

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