It happens so often, I flinch whenever I see this combination of people:

Middle/Upper Class White Female Mother age 30-40,
with (typically) one Child (either sex) age 2-10.

I arrived at the shop early. These days it's nice to get the place warmed up before I open - so I kick in the heaters, leave on my coat, and stroll down to to the other antiques shop for a chat with the owner.

In his store was The Combo: highly entitled SUV-driving white woman age 30-40 with 9 year old toe-headed son. He was picking up, dropping, throwing to the cement floor or forcing to bend any antique he had the momentary urge to "experience" (read "damage").

Mom? Could care less. She was busy with her own interests, and for that short period of time, her son could be someone else's problem. After all, SHE is special, he's hers, and they are both Entitled.

The owner didn't speak up - until they'd gone. People love him because he's so pleasant. What they don't know is he DOES notice, feel, and remember what they do... but I'm who hears about it - not them. He'll eventually drop dead of high blood pressure. I will not. THAT'S NOT my style.

People need feedback. It's not always fun or pretty, but it's the MODE of behavior I use because I think it has better long run effects than worse. Plus, IF "it takes a village" (I often waiver about that idea), then BEHAVE like you ARE a member of the village. But, who am I to tell anyone anything... NO ONE in situations like I just described, but by then my concern was not so much about this kid as my business friend who's trying to survive just like me. I would want him to say something if he saw THAT in MY shop - but he wouldn't. It's just not him.

It takes a village to cover your back, I guess.

Anyhow, the unsupervised, feral Darling of the 'Burbs was finally being so rough on one antique, I knew it would snap within the next few seconds if I didn't speak up. Seriously. So I spoke (I'm just a stranger in the store, as far as they know).

"Hey, don't do that! You're about to break it!"

"It won't do what I want it to do!"

"It's not yours, and you're going to break it!"

"But it won't..."

Mom, within eight feet, doesn't even look over at him - which is VERY telling (if you hadn't picked up any clues yet).

"Wimbley, we're about to leeeeeave..." she sings. Sings.

"I'm LOOKING at something!"

("About to leave"?! THAT's your response?! To SING?")

He then picked up a composition doll (fragile) he'd already thrown on the floor, and threw it instead in a box before he reached Mom. They inched past me, and went outside. I kept watching.

He began smacking items from the shop on the sidewalk. Stomping on them. Knocking them over. The owner said nothing. I walked up... SAID nothing... but walked up within four feet of them. He looked at me and stopped. He put the things back from where he'd snatched them.

He wasn't retarded, he wasn't ADHD, he was nothing but improperly taught and tolerated, which gave him the grand sense he was Entitled. Someone, ANYONE, came along came said "No" - and he responded. For one minute he acknowledged the world was NOT all his, and he had a social responsibility. That's all. He didn't cry, didn't wrap around Mommy's legs, didn't do anything except the right thing for one unusual minute.

Mom didn't flinch. She showed no shock, no interest, no embarrassment, and certainly did not apologize to the owner of the shop... after all, HE hadn't said anything.

I didn't know which direction she was headed. She might've thought of walking up the block to visit "that other antiques shop" (mine). I'd already decided Golden Woman & Her Son were not welcome.

If you and I could've bet money right then, I'd of bet the conversation would've gone like this - and I know I would've won -

"Sorry, but I don't allow unsupervised children in my store."

"I'll keep an eye on him. He's my boy, and he's a very well behaved boy."

"Apparently you didn't notice I've observed you both - in action - the last fifteen minutes."

(Now hand over the cash. I know I won.)