You Don't Mess With Dad

By Won Kim

I'm a person of great restraint when it comes to confrontation. It's a mixture of my conservative upbringing, my subconscious evasion of altercation and the impending fear of getting punched in the mouth. I mean, seriously, who wants to get a mouthful of knuckles over a stupid parking space.

However, there is probably only one thing in my life that if pressed, I would gladly welcome fisticuffs. I'm attempting to sound slightly sarcastic, but don't mistakenly translate my sarcasm for inauthenticity. No doubt about it, if someone messes with my family, specifically my two sons, I will go Kimbo Slice on them.

I don't know what it is, but I think it's an inherent quality in most dads. It's part primal-we're just trying to protect the existing proof of our ancestry-but it's mostly to do with love. We are not only protecting that which is dearest to us, but having been hurt ourselves, we're trying to make their lives a little easier. After all, isn't that what love is, to take care of one another, even at your expense.

I had a recent incident where I was not the best example of a model citizen. It happened at a Best Buy's in Manhattan. My family and I were on a search to find a good GPS device for our car. My wife meandered to another section of the store (that's what wives do), and I was alone to juggle the fine skill of testing all the GPS devices while keeping an eye on our 3-year-old son. My son had skipped his usual afternoon nap, so he was more wired than usual, but nothing that would communicate unruliness. As I was checking out a Garmin (which is the brand I ended up buying-but we can discuss GPS devices on another post), in the corner of my eye I caught my son trying to tag people on their leg. At one point, he walked up to a lady walking away from him and did a half-hug, half-push to the bottom of her legs.

Granted, my son's bigger than the normal 3-year-old, but I was under the impression his action was innocuous, if not adorable in a toddler kind of way. However, no one warned me that the wicked witch of the Upper East Side would be shopping at Best Buy. As soon as she felt the tug on her black trench coat, she whipped around and glared at my son. My son was not aware of the tension that suddenly entered the room, and continued to playfully spin around on his heels. That's when I heard the lady snap, "You rude little boy! I can't believe how rude you are. You are a very, very rude boy!"

By this time her eyes finally met mine and now she aimed her vitriolic rant toward me. "How can you raise such a rude little boy? I have a 3-year-old at home and he would never do such a thing. What if I was some crazy stranger and decided to hurt your kid back? Someone needs to teach you and your kid a lesson. He is a rude little boy. Why, I never ..."

By this time, the tension was so thick you would have a hard time cutting it with a chainsaw. My wife ran back having noticed the commotion, and although unaware of the whole situation, she did catch the tail end of the lady's rant. This of course activated her motherly fury, "Who do you think you are talking to my son like that? Get out of here!"

The lady kept on muttering something under her breath and scurried off. I was dumbstruck. What just happened? I asked myself. I looked down at my son. All joy had disappeared from his face, and in place, was a look of petrified fear. Before I could pick him up in my arms and tell him that everything would be okay, and that not all people like to play his games, the lady reappeared. I guess she didn't get the last word in.

"What is wrong with you people? How can you bring your little boy out and let him push me? I wish I was that crazy person and shoved him back, and then he would learn his lesson. You need to control your rude boy."

The first encounter with this lady I could forgive and walk away from, and simply dismiss it as a lady going through mid-life crisis while fraught by a marriage to a workaholic investment banker. However, the second time was just too much. The lady left in a huff, most likely gloating that she got the last word.

Not surprisingly, my son was a puddle of tears by now, completely baffled at why an old lady would speak at him with such venomous sentiments. I held him close and told him everything would be okay and that daddy was here to protect him. Simultaneously, I was half-hoping every mother and father in the store would barricade the doors and give the lady a much-needed timeout. While I was comforting my son, random strangers came up to my wife and I and told us that they saw the whole thing and couldn't wonder why someone would berate a kid for being a normal 3-year-old. Most memorable was a gay couple who told my son how strong and brave he was to withstand the "dragon lady." My son responded by flexing his arm muscles and sheepishly stating, "She mean. I'm strong."

I breathed slowly for the next couple minutes in an attempt to let my need for vengeance simmer. Unfortunately, retribution has a very strong pull. I noticed the dragon lady about 40 yards away standing at the cash register with her husband. Without even thinking, I made a beeline toward cash register no. 4.

The lady wouldn't make eye contact, but she knew I was standing right next to her husband. In any case, I made my presence clearly felt by directing my attention to her husband.

"So, do you know this woman?" I asked.

"Yes, she's my wife," he responded.

"Well, that's unfortunate. Do you have any idea what your wife just said to my son?"

The man quickly shot me a look, but it wasn't a look of anger or annoyance, no, his eyes were filled with a plea to simply empathize with what I already guessed-this lady always picks a fight. Regrettably for him, this was a fight I was gladly walking into.

So, I turned my attention back to the lady and started asking her if this is part of her usual Sunday afternoon activities-to frighten 3-year-old boys and to reprimand them without reprieve. She continued to look straight ahead, but I knew time was on my side as the girl working the cash register was obviously more engaged with the drama unfolding in her line than actually printing out a receipt. I continued.

I kept on asking the lady if she really had a 3-year-old, and if she did, were they a special kind of 3-year-olds that never run, smile or play tag. I also demanded an apology from her to my son for threatening to cause harm. Lucky for her, the register spat out her purchase receipt. She quickly grabbed it.

By this time, it seemed as if the whole floor had gone silent. However, I felt a shot of adrenaline go through my body, as if I was a prosecutor ready to articulate my closing argument. If anything, I told myself, I'm doing this for my son and all the dads in the world. It's funny how when you mix love and anger, you suddenly feel like the vindicator of the world.

The couple walked quickly toward the escalator. I ran ahead and met them at the mouth of their escape route.

"I'm not leaving you guys alone until you apologize. I will follow you home. You will not get rid of me until you say sorry."

For the first time I saw the lips of the dragon lady quiver with nervousness. Half-expecting her to spew out some more bitter words, I was surprised to hear her mumble "Sorry to you and your son."

I don't know what I was expecting, but her apologies only assuaged my anger to a minimal degree. The damage was done, and at the end of the day, that lady plucked a bit of my son's innocence. As I watched the couple ride the escalator up toward the entrance floor, it felt like an eternity. I watched how they both stared straight ahead without talking, probably afraid that I was right behind them. By the time they reached the top, I was already with my family.

To be honest, it wasn't my proudest moment. I wish I didn't put the husband in such an uncomfortable position nor did I have to raise my voice in such a way to rally the attention of Best Buy customers. Most importantly, I wish my son didn't have to see his dad reciprocate a lady's anger with more anger. But I learned something that day too.

I care for my son deeply. So much that I'll do anything to protect him from the unwarranted wrath of an Upper East Side lady at a busy Best Buy. Even more, I love him so much that I've begun teaching him the difference between being rude and being a little too playful. Hopefully, dragon lady learns that one day. One thing I know she learned-you don't mess with dad.

(photo courtesy of espn)