This happened several months back, but I wasn’t blogging the coffee shop happenings at that time.

However, it was amazing and I wouldn’t want anyone to miss it.

I was stationed at my usual forward listening post. For those who don’t know, that is the Starbuck’s near the pier in Manhattan Beach.

There was a woman, apparently in her forties, there with her little kid. It was a common thing to see in Manhattan, someone about a decade or so past the ideal baby handling age. Yes, this is pure age discrimination, but it has to do with the ability to recover from no sleep.

And she looked tired. She was sitting at a table with something latte-ish. She was on her phone talking to someone and her kid was going berzerk.

Most children sit in their stroller and the belt happens to be buckled.

This kid was strapped down like he might be a danger to himself and others. I didn’t realize Graco made a carrier with wrist restraints.

He was doing two things at once. The first was that he was thrashing back and forth, trying to get out of the restraints. At the same time, he had a running potty mouth directed at his mother.

“Mommy! Mommy! MOMMY! You bitch! Bitch! I’m talking to YOU! Dammit! Damn you, MOMMY!”

Mom’s reaction? Not even phased.

She told the person on the phone that “Carter is at it again, hang on.” She pulled the phone away from her head about 6 inches.

“Carter? What has mommy told you about that language?” Then the phone is back on her ear.

Carter continued his rant, thrashing in his carrier.

Good lord. This woman was raising a serial killer.

My mother would be in handcuffs for my murder by now.

It was then that I noticed the old woman sitting next to them. She had been sitting there when I came in.

She sipped her tea and only slightly raised her eyebrows at Carter and his antics.

This woman came from that great generation that raised the country. Maybe the daughter of immigrants. She was tough. Her kids were grown, had some grand kids in high school or college.

She had seen things.

This went on a few more minutes with new people coming in, ordering and feeling uncomfortable, getting their coffee and leaving.

Finally, the old woman finished her tea. She put her cup down, stood up, grabbed her purse, leaned over….

And slapped Carter across the mouth.

She leaned in and looked him in the eyes.

“You don’t talk to your mother with that language.”

She stood and straightened her dress. She turned to Carter’s mom, who sat stunned with the phone hanging about six to eight inches from her face.

The old woman poked her finger into mom’s face.

“I should slap YOU!”

And then she walked out, like a gunfighter leaving town after the big shoot out.

I smiled.

Justice had been served, hot and fresh, at Starbuck’s.