I was crazy once. Maybe more than once, but this "once" I cannot be in denial for it. My excuse is that someone else made me crazy, so I'm not really all that worried about it.

I was 8 months pregnant (ooooh, you say. Say no more.) Grocery shopping, minding my own business. There, shadow shopping in the fresh foods, was an elderly man and a young boy about the tender age of 7. (Mind you, I was expecting a boy. Ooooh, you say.) I couldn't help but overhear this older man chiding the boy for this and that, and before long it escalated into threats - "Dont touch that cart or you'll get the belt when we get home!" Stuff like that. Enough insanity to welcome stares from other concerned shoppers. Poor kid looked defeated and small - but not so much so that he wouldn't offer to run and get a box of crackers - "go ahead, get." was grumpy old man's reply.

Problem was, the child returned with the "wrong" box of crackers, and if he didn't catch it good for that mistake. Old man ranted and raved, again threatening the belt. Didn't the boy know those were too expensive, and what was he thinking? By this time, people were starting to chatter amongst themselves, and I'd heard ABOUT enough. I followed after that man headed for the frozen foods, with a clear agenda but no plan (dangerous combination). By the time I turned the corner with my cart 5 feet in front of me (big belly) - I could hear this guy hollering at the boy, "Are you dumb? are you dumb?"

It was like slow motion, these words coming out of my mouth in a half crazed shriek of mother bear like proportions: "DON'T you ever call him DUMB, AGAIN!"

The old guy flipped around, marched up to my face (belly in between us) and breathed, "what in the hell did you just say to me?" In a less confident but equally justified voice I said, "Don't you call him dumb again."

He hissed back at me, "I 'said', are you done. Not dumb, done." Then he turned on his heels and returned to his own cart and a very stunned little boy.

"Clean up in the frozen foods." I was a complete blubbering mess.

No doubt my little crazed display resulted in an extra switch with the belt, for humiliation of confrontation. My only comfort is that maybe that boy saw something in this crazy lady that told him his grandfather was waaaay out of line, and perhaps someday when he's big he can kick his grandpa's arse.

I recently went to a conference on personality disorders and how to diagnose them. The nutshell version was effective enough. Someone who acts crazy is schizoprhenic. Someone who makes YOU feel crazy has a personality disorder.

I shouldn't have yelled at the guy - I should have given him my card.