Kids These Days???

Today at the mall play place (I'm too old for this heat.) I was pulled into a conversation with a lady in her 60s, whom I'd just met. Here's how the conversation went.

Random Lady: You're so fortunate you get to stay home with your kids. I stayed home with mine and they're still, to this very day, respectful. Both of my girls have to work, so their kids are in daycare. (As are many of my friends' kids, thank you very much.) In daycare they just don't have any expectations.

Suddenly I'm panicked, looking around to see how many people are hearing this, looking for an escape from this conversation of which I disagree, but don't want to disrespect someone I just met. My mind was working triple time to try and curb-or derail completely-this one-sided conversation.

Me: I am so thankful I get to stay home with my boys and am enjoying this time with them. (Looking, looking for some escape.)

Cue the 'escape.'

Just when I think I couldn't possibly be more mortified than I already am, having this conversation, in public, no less, and while the lady is still looking at me, J runs right up to me, stops about 8 inches short, and hits me right on the thigh. With his fist!

Not exactly the escape I would've chosen. I was mortified to the next level and completely taken aback, as we don't allow hitting and this was totally out of character for J.

Me: Jack, WHAT are you doing? We do NOT hit. Why did you do that?
J: (With a major look of confusion on his face, followed by a serious expression) I was not hitten you. I was markin you.
Me: What? Well, you hit my leg and we do not hit.
J: But I was markin you, Momma.
Me: Well, we don't mark people, either. Can you tell me you're sorry?
J: (Same look of confusion) Sorry, Momma.

With that, he was off to play. Maybe he was branding me. Who knows. All I know is that just when I think I've maxed out in the mortification dept, someone sends me just a bit farther.

I wonder if RL is rethinking her hypothesis.