The Terrible Twos or a terrible mother?
|Marcie crossed the threshold of Carmen’s Beauty Salon . There was a chill in the air on this sunny fall day, but inside a warm glow came from the electric traditional brick masonry fireplace.
She shrugged out of her sweater and hung it on a hook beside the door. She loved the decor inside Carmen’s Beauty Salon. Hardwood floors and brick walls with large mirrors hanging in front of the chairs in the styling section gave the salon a welcome feeling.
Carmen, busy trimming a customer’s hair, gave a little wave and motioned toward the waiting area.
Marcie sunk into a comfy chair behind a long, low glass-topped table that held the hair styling books and magazines.
There was a small table and chair nearby for children to amuse themselves. It held colouring books and crayons and a few toys.
A lady, Marcie knew from church, was seated next to her and sitting opposite them was a young mother with an overactive two year old boy. The young mother was absorbed in a magazine.
Marcie picked up a hair styling book and flipped through the pages. There were many modern cuts. I don’t know, she thought to herself, maybe I should have Carmen put in a few streaks to brighten up the dull brown colour.
Mrs. Blake, the elderly lady from church, smiled. “With your big brown eyes and delicate features this would be a cute cut and it would show-off those lovely earrings.”
The little boy had been lying on the floor kicking at the legs of his mother’s chair. He got up and went to the child’s table and picked up the crayons. He made a variety of scribble marks on the table top, then snapped several crayons in half. He threw pieces of crayon across the floor toward the styling station. Carmen looked up in annoyance and glanced over at the boy’s mother.
His mother looked up from her reading, but seemed indifferent to his behavior. The boy ran over to Marcie and tore pages out of the hair styling books on the table. Mrs. Blake gasped. Marcie gave him a stern look but, it was obvious he was not very well disciplined.
His mother looked up again and sighed heavily. “Scott, she said, “stop that.” He threw himself down on the floor and screamed loudly.
Just then, there was the roar of a motorbike outside and Leigh Archibald walked into the beauty salon. Marcie peered over the top of the hair styling book. Leigh was wearing a plaid shirt, tattered jeans, and work boots. His long dark hair was tied back in an untidy ponytail. At twenty-nine , Marcie thought he was getting a bit mature for this Grunge look he had going.
He was a Pharmacy Aide ,but his hobby was motorbikes .
He strode over to the reception area and leaned against the desk.
“Hi Babe,” he drawled at Carmen as she joined him. “What’s his problem?” he nodded toward Scott, who was still laying on the floor, arms crossed, brows drawn together, and a thumb stuck in his pouty mouth, hiccupping loudly.
“ I don’t know” Carmen answered in exasperation.
“Seems like the kind of kid that would rip the wings of an insect, somebody should take him out to the bushes”
Carmen rolled her eyes “Would you think less of me if I did?” she asked.
As he straightened up, a pack of matches fell unnoticed from his pocket.
"Love blinds us to our sweetheart's faults Well, see you later, I don’t think this is a good time" Leigh chuckled as he left.
You had to say one thing for Leigh, Marcie thought, he’s always composed .
Carmen brought over a juice box with a strawand handed it to Scott before she returned to the styling area.
He sucked the juice noisily from the box, then noticed the matches. He darted over, picked them up and ran back over to the waiting area. He grabbed the torn pages from the styling books, and set them afire. Soon the flames were shooting up, consuming the magazines.
Mrs. Blake squealed in horror. Marcie ran for the fire extinguisher pulled the pin, and aimed it at the table. Carmen stamped over to the waiting area, looked at Scott’s mother accusingly and asked “What in hell is going on here?”
The boy’s mother stood up and glared at Carmen. “If my son is bothering you, I can take my business elsewhere.” She said in a huff.
“Please do!” Carmen retorted as she stared at the charred remains of her hair styling books and magazines.
Scott’s mother grabbed him by one arm and dragged unceremoniously toward the exit slamming the door as they left.
“My goodness,” exclaimed Mrs Blake, I have never seen anything quite like that in my entire life.”
An unnaturalsilence fell over the beauty salon as everyone reflected on the scene that had just occurred.
“I wonder why that little boy acts out like that.” Mrs Blake asked.
“Gee, I don’t know.” Marcie replied sarcastically, thinking of the boy’s mother.