I was standing in a long line at a checkout at a crowded store one day—not enough people working, half the self-serve counters weren’t working, people were exasperated, tempers wearing thin—you know the drill.

Directly in front of me was a young mother with a toddler—a bored toddler—and anyone who has ever been around toddlers knows what a recipe for disaster that can be. This toddler would pull his legs out of the leg holes in the cart and stand up in the seat—while all of us held our breath hoping he wouldn’t fall. The floor may have been only four feet away, but when you’re only two feet tall, that’s still a significant distance to a hard concrete end. But the mother was always immediately right there telling him to sit down. Without argument or tears, he would obey and sit right back down.

Then you could almost see the vibrations begin—he could not sit still for long—and up he would pop again. Mother never lost her patience, she would tell him to sit, he would sit, boredom would ensue, and up he would pop yet again. This must have happened five or six times. Mom never started to cry or yell or demonstrate exasperation in any way. The little boy didn’t cry or yell and would sit back down every time she would tell him to.

They both had my complete and total sympathy. Having raised four kids myself—3 of them active little boys who did not care for sitting still—I knew that standing in a long line at the checkout was one of the miseries of life for everyone involved.

Behind me in the line was an elderly man. His patience was not the patience of the mother. He spoke out—loudly enough for us all to hear— “When I was raising my children they would have gotten a spanking for such disobedience. Parents nowadays let their kids get away with anything.”

I saw the mother’s face get red with embarrassment.

I’m normally a polite person. I avoid disagreements with strangers. I mostly avoid conversation of any kind with strangers. Perhaps I should have kept my mouth shut, but this time, the feisty in me rose to the surface. I couldn’t help it—really— I turned around and spoke to the man.

“He isn’t disobeying. Every time she tells him to sit, he sits. His mother is being extremely patient and kind and understanding of how difficult this is for him. The mother is handling him well, and the little boy is doing the best he can in the circumstances.”

The old man responded, “Well I raised four kids and spanked every one of them. My kids knew to obey me when I told them something.”

It was no doubt rude and downright mean of me, and I should probably be ashamed for saying it, but in return I asked, “Do any of them still speak to you?”

He didn’t answer. He just glared at me.

Perhaps what I said is actually the rudest thing said while waiting in line, and the old man should be writing this about me, but I really couldn’t help but defend that young mother and her little boy. Maybe I should be sorry, but the thing is, I’d probably do it again. Being a young parent is hard enough without know-it-alls making comments like that.

The mother smiled at me. The old man never said another word.

We all—quietly—got through the checkout and went our separate ways.