I'm a mother on the playground.

So, you lived in a five-story building on the outskirts of, say, St. Petersburg. The neighborhood was pretty nice. They'd recently built a new playground. You were bored of sitting at home, and the summer weather outside was so pleasant. You decided to go to the playground and get some fresh air. You grabbed your bag and threw in your phone, house and entrance keys, a bottle of water, chips, and other small items. Leaving the building, you walked to the playground. It was on the corner of the building. There were already a lot of children and their parents there. You sat down on the nearest swing (there were about eight of them on the playground, and almost all of them were free), put on your headphones, turned on some music, and started swinging. Everything was quiet until someone pushed you off the swing from behind. You nearly fell, dropping your headphones and bag. Behind you, you heard screams. WHAT'S THAT COW SITTING THERE! MY DEAR SON WANTS TO SWING!! But the screams stopped when you turned around. A woman with a child stood before you. The woman was about 40 years old, and the boy was about 10. The woman almost immediately started yelling that it was your fault and that she hadn't touched you, but rather that you had offended her son and yelled at her. Meanwhile, her son was trying to take your bag with your things. Many adults stood up from the benches and began to approach, and the children began crying and running to their parents.

I'm an evil mother and will try to prove that you are to blame for everything, but she is white and fluffy because she has a child and everyone owes her.