The Lioness

A few months back, I bundled my son into the pram and went to Target to get a few essentials (yes, Cherry Ripes count as essentials when they are on special). This particular day was very busy due to some last minute Easter Egg shopping, so I joined the long cue and waited semi-patiently for my turn. Slowly the cue of people moved forward until finally I was next to be served. There were many registers open to cope with the busy rush so I watched closely so that I would be ready to go as soon as a checkout became available. It was only a matter of seconds before a staff member called out, 'Next please', but before I had a chance to move, the man behind me placed his hand on my pram, gave it a push forward, and said, 'Go'.

I consider myself a tolerant person, an understanding person, a sane person, even a nice person, but the moment that man's hand touched my pram, a foreign (demonic sounding) noise which was meant to be my voice, roared at him, 'Don't touch the pram'. He stepped back, I stepped back, I think most of the surrounding customers stepped back and I believe my son would have stepped back if he could have. Anyone would have thought that the man reached out and slapped my child or pushed the pram into oncoming traffic. I actually had to take a moment to regain my composure before sheepishly wheeling my pram to the register and placing my embarrassing stash of Cherry Ripes onto the counter. I was suddenly the protective mother. I was a lioness.

When my husband came home from work that evening, I told him there was no need for him to ever worry about our son. I knew that I was going to protect him until the day I died. If he got stuck under a bus, I was going to be the super Mum that single-handedly lifted the bus off him. My husband didn't look convinced. He said that I couldn't be there his entire life to protect him. He said there would be school yard fights and sports injuries that I could nothing about. Panic immediately rose within me as I imagined my son getting punched by another teenager. My next thought was of me saving him, appearing on top of a hill like in the movies, a tough walk towards them as the watching crowd separates in fear. Or maybe he will get knocked on the footy field by one of those freakishly large teenagers that shouldn't be allowed to play with the children. I'll jump the barrier, leap across 50 metres of playing field in two bounds and take out his opponent in a single tackle.

When I shared these thoughts with my husband, he looked liked I had just shared plans of a massacre at our sons school. Apparently teenage boys don't like to be saved by their mothers in front of their peers, who knew? As a lioness, am I meant to send my cubs out into open African plains unprotected? Come on husband, we've all seen The Lion King and know where Simba would be if his Mum had just sat back and let boys be boys.

I'm not sure whether my Disney references help my argument so perhaps there is a compromise between our lines of thinking. Until this compromise is made, I remain a lioness, so back away from the baby people.