Hey, shove it, would'ja?

This may be a kinda "had to be there" kinda story, but here goes anyway:

So I took the girls to the library this morning. M loves to go and pick out books, play on the computer, etc. etc. And P, well, P is 18 months old. She likes to tear shit up. That's her thang.

Anyway, we get there and commence to frolic among the books. I chased P around for awhile and finally got her cornered in an itty bitty area surrounded by 3 book shelves and a puppet show thingy. Ha! Contained. M and I started playing with the puppet show (putting on a stunning performance with a vulture and a zebra, I might add) while P did her own thing - mainly gleefully pulling books off the shelves. Every so often I would lean over (contained area, remember. Not hurting or offending anyone else's personal space, mind you.) and put the books back. After the FRICKTILLIONTH time of doing this, I just mellowed out and let her go at it and enjoyed the puppets with M.

Enter Mommyzilla. This woman looked like she had been sucking on lemons. Either that, or she had just stuck her nose in horse shit, one or the other. She stared at P with the hatred of a thousand devils, and, still staring at her, said to me, "Did you know she's....she's..." And I so kindly finished her sentence, "pulling the books of the shelves?"

Zilla: (Still glaring at P - WTF?) Yes.

Me: Yeah. I've already picked them up a hundred times.

Zilla: (Looks at me, FINALLY, then resumes her evil eye at P. She kept staring and staring AND STARING.)

Now I'm thinking maybe she's (P) really tearing it up. Because of the way the bookshelves were positioned, I couldn't actually see her, so by now I thought I was going to find EVERY SINGLE BOOK and EVERY SINGLE STUFFED ANIMAL and EVERY SINGLE OTHER LIBRARYISH KNICK-KNACKY THING all strew from here to yonder. So I got up (Zilla still staring) and walked around to find:

F.I.V.E. books on the floor. Yes, five. Oh the humanity! What shall we do? Call the authorities, we have a major fricking crisis on our hands.

I proceeded to pick up the books and put them away exactly from whence they came AND SHE WAS STILL STARING AT ME! WATCHING ME DO THIS AS IF TO MAKE DAMN SURE I DID IT CORRECTLY. Alright, enough caps, but jeez! Had this women NEVER (oops, sorry) been around an 18 month old before? (Obviously she had, her son that was with her was about 8.) Did she actually think I was not going to pick up after my own child? And what's with the staring, you weirdo?

I reserve the "C" word for those individuals who make it glaringly evident that they are idiots of the highest form. She doesn't even deserve the "C" word. She's not worthy of the "C" word. I'll just call her a good ol' fashion Beeyatch.

There. I feel much better.