Manhandling

What is the quickest way to make a woman, or any female creature, your enemy? Manhandle their child. How do I know this personally? Oh, because I managed to do just that. At church. To an attender's child.

How did this happen? Well, as I was rushing in on one Sunday morning, trying to make it to the 9 o'clock service, I run and catch an empty elevator from the bottom of the parking deck, riding up the 2nd floor, leaving 4 potential stops between me and my destination, which I am currently 3 minutes late to join anyway.

What happens next should have resulted in my hand being broken, or, at minimum, a nice female-to-female slap. At the next floor, a cute little toddler complete with OshKosh B'Gosh and a dutch-boy bowl cut comes running on the elevator sans parents. His eyes glaze over in electronica delight and he is drawn, sticky fingers outstretched, to the myriad of buttons in front of him. At that point, I decide, in all my wisdom, to reach out, grab hold of the offending chubby arm and tell him a resounding "no buddy." (I don't know any Buddy's. Where that came from is some backwoods mystery to me.)

At that point, I freeze. Swivel my eyes to the approaching parents and lock eyes with Mama. Mama ain't happy with me.

I let go as if this child is Damien and my skin has been burned. I blurt out apologies and try to become a part of the wall. Dad is laughing. Mama is giving me looks that let me know she would be alright with me proving scientific theory right and perform spontaneous combustion then and there.

When my stop arrives, I blubber some more apologies for touching the precious little one, and then run out of there.

Never cross mama bear.