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There was a little girl, seven or eight years old, who Beqi and I have seen there before. She recognized the father, but I didn't. Most of the times I've seen them, he's dumped the girl in the play area and retreated to the front of the coffeehouse.

I've never talked to him, but Beqi has. The girl was adopted, and the one time she talked to him, he described himself as being her "savior" because he and his wife rescued her from the abject poverty of her native country.

Okay.

I have no problem with foreign adoptions. None at all. In fact, had I not been able to get pregnant, B. and I were considering that option for ourselves. What I do have a problem with is anyone self-describing himself as being someone elses savior/rescuer/knight in shining armour.

An old friend of mine suffered from severe bipolar disorder. She met her husband in a bar when she was 19 and going through one of her first manic episodes. Years later he gave her a charm for her charm bracelet - a knight's helmet because, as he told her, "I'm your knight in shining armour." She was pleased with the gift, but it gave me the cold chills unlike anything else.

No one gets to describe himself in that manner. No one. It's scary when it's in a romantic relationship. In a parent/child relationship? Strikes me as being sick.

So today. The coffeehouse guy dumped his daughter in the play area and sat nearby, not acknowledging her for the hour+ that she was playing.

This girl is one of the most timid, shy children I've ever seen. She played with Clara Jane a bit, but mostly kept to herself before encountering E., who did what 20-month-olds are prone to do: he greeted her with a shove. Beqi responded by jumping up, telling E. that's he's not allowed to shove, apologizing to the girl, and removing E. from the scene before he could do it again.

But it was too late. The father was in his daughter's face, yelling at her and thumping her on the head with his finger for ... wait for it ... not standing up for herself.

B., Beqi and I sat there, completely astounded at this display. He was so loud and angry that people on the opposite side of the coffeehouse stopped to see what was happening.

Now, let's break this down a bit:

1. Timid older child encounters toddler who's still learning the finer points of social interaction.

2. Toddler's mother intervenes immediately.

3. Savior Dad commences yelling and thumping hissy fit directed at his child because she didn't stand up for herself.

Hmmmm ... perhaps, just maybe, this child doesn't stand up for herself because, oh, I don't know, she's being raised by a abusive motherfucker with a god complex! I'm not a child psychologist, so I don't know. Just a hunch.

Oh, but that wasn't the end of it. After E. settled down, Beqi put him back down, and he approached the little girl, who had remained silent and expressionless through it all. When E. approached, Savior Dad leaned over the counter, wagging a finger in E.'s face, and yelling his disciplinary shit at the toddler.

How Beqi kept from beating the ever-living fuck out of this guy, I'm not sure. She informed him that she was taking care of the situation. To which Savior Dad responded by shrieking something about getting the hell out of there (gee, break our hearts, whydontcha), grabbing his daughter, grabbing his Mountain Dew, and storming out.

Proof positive that the caffiene in soda is much more mood-altering than that in coffee, which makes people happy and non-confrontational.

He stole the coffeehouse's soda glass, which pisses me off, too.

But oh, it gets better! Once he stormed outside he bitched to the guy who maintains the coffeehouse's yard about us. Later, he called to complain, telling the staff that if "those parents" are ever there again, he won't be giving the coffeehouse his patronage.

Now that takes some balls. He commits what amounts to verbal and physical abuse upon his own child, screams at someone else's toddler, storms out, but won't render the complaint in person, to the people who witnessed his outburst.

The coffeehouse staff asked us if we'd mind moving in so that he'll never, ever come back ever again. Turns out, he's not well-liked by the staff, to the point where they bicker over who's going to get stuck waiting on him.

For the rest of the day, Beqi, B., the staff, and I cracked multiple jokes about calling in complaints about each other. I think it was one of those situations where if we hadn't joked, we all would have been crying on behalf of that poor child. If he's treating his child like that in public, what the hell's going on at home?

So many things about this gall me, and I've been stewing in anger all day.

I think of my single 40-year-old friend who will be such a wonderful mom. I've seen how she's grappled with arranging her career, location, finances, and life to make her chances of being able to adopt higher. This woman, who has treated my child with so much love, who's willing to adopt a foreign child, or a child with disabilities, not because she wants to be anyone's savior, but because that's how loving and generous she is. And yet, because she's a single woman, it's going to be more difficult for her to adopt.

I think about another dear friend of mine who wants a baby, and who will make a wonderful father. Despite being with his partner for almost as long as I've been with mine, adopting's going to be extremely difficult for them because they're both men.

And yet here's this abusive, manipulative, screaming jackass, who was allowed to bring a child into this country and into his family by virtue of little more than being in what's viewed as a "normal" relationship. I'm sickened, and I wish that little girl had either of my friends in her life, giving her the love and respect she deserves.

Beqi made a good point - we can't save every child. If we could adopt every child who's been mistreated we would, but we can't. The best we can do is take care of our own.

Which makes me look at my relationship with my child. She's been tough this week, as you know if you've been reading for the past few days. Yesterday and this morning I told B., "I don't know why but she's stomping on my last nerve." That's a hard thing to admit about your own child, and it's even harder to deal with. Every day, I'm stunned by the amount of patience parenting requires, patience I never knew I had.

I'm not the perfect mom by any means. There have been times when I've overreacted, spoken too sharply, or taken my frustrations out in a less-than-adult manner in front of my daughter. But I've never done what I witnessed today, and I'm confident that I never will. Yeah, there's some self-righteous parenting smugness, but at what price? The price of the child who has a shitty parent?

I can't imagine how the rest of the day was for that girl. I hope that once he calmed down, maybe her dad realized that he'd overreacted. Maybe he apologized and they went to the nearby park to blow off the steam, have a little fun, and get their day back on track. I don't think that's the case, though.

There was so much anger in him, so much he directed it everywhere. I couldn't tell if he was angry at his daughter, Beqi, E., the coffeehouse staff, B., me. I think he was just angry, period, and he was willing to direct that anger at whoever wandered into his scope.

I wish I'd done things differently, instead of my stellar reaction to the situation: sitting on the couch, hands jammed under my ass, jaw hanging open, looking back and forth from B. to Beqi with my eyes bugged, while making sure my daughter didn't wander into the line of fire. When I get really angry, I can't speak, and I was at tht point. The most I could have said, had I tried, would have been something like, "You! Dad! Meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeean! Bad daddy! No!"

B. reminded me later that it was right for us to not intervene too much, because this guy was obviously unhinged, and you just never know when someone who's unhinged will run you through with a Mountain Dew straw. Beqi made the excellent point that, if we made more of a confrontation, his daughter would have been the one to pay for it. And I know they're both right.

However, if I see him again, and he's treating his child the way he treated her today, I'll be dialing 911 so fast it'll make his jacked-up Mountain Dew heart rate look slow.

I've grappled a lot with how aggressive I want to teach Clara Jane to be. I don't want people to walk all over her, but I don't want her to grow up feeling angry and entitled. She's a pretty mellow kid, all told. When pushed, she walks away. If someone takes the toy in her hand, she walks away and finds another toy. I've often wondered if I need to teach her to stand up for herself, or if maybe she's got the right idea. She knows how to roll with the punches. That's who she is. B.'s always said that any kid we have, especially girls, will take a martial arts class or two, just enough to learn how to defend herself with discipline and respect. I'm all for that.

I wonder how peaceful that little girl is going to be when she's grown. I'm going to wonder a lot of things about her for a long time.

Clara Jane's no longer stomping on my last nerve. I have a feeling it's going to be a long, long time before I feel that way. She's learning, and it's my job to guide her as she learns, no matter how frustrating it is. I wasn't put here to save her. She, like every child, didn't ask to be brought into this world. B. and I made the choice to bring her into the world and we owe it to her to teach her the skills to navigate it. Not bully her into it.