They’re Not Playing Around In That Playground

(I’m about six years old. My grandparents operate a big, Oktoberfest-y beer garden with up to 1000 visitors a day, and a connected playground. When I visit for the summer I am always eager to help. Since they can’t have a child running around behind the tills, they invent the job of ‘playground supervisor’ for me and tell me to see that everybody is having fun. I’m doing just that when I see a kid shove another kid from the swing and spit on him.)

Me: “Hey! You can’t do that!”

Rude Kid: “Shut up! I can do whatever I want!”

Me: “No! That was bad! Please apologize and let him back on the swing…”

(In the same moment I feel the hand of an adult violently grabbing me by the arm and yanking me to the nearby registers. My grandpa, who was standing behind it, sees this from afar and already comes around the front of the till.)

Rude Adult: *to me* “You’ll be sorry for that!” *to my grandpa* “This spoiled brat was rude and insulted my child and me! I want you to throw him off the premises alongside his useless parents or I’ll give him the whipping he very clearly needs! And I want you to comp my meal for the hostile environment you exposed my child to!”

Grandpa: *quietly by visibly furious beneath the surface* “[My Name], why don’t you go back to the playground?”

(I turned around and went back to the playground but still could see that it was dawning on the rude woman that she made a terrible mistake. A few moments later an employee came and escorted the rude child alongside his mother and her friends out of the beer garden. I don’t know what was spoken but they looked mortified and I’ve never seen them back in the years since.)