Tantrums
Safe to say, my kid was crazy before. But now, add some gluten into the mix and this kid is stark-raving, certifiably nutso and willful.
Sunday we went to Barnes and Noble to get a birthday present for a friend. It was just he and I, and I found a deal - buy two kids' books and get another for $4.95. Well, that's a steal, right? Ollie, who loves bookstores, went rampaging through while I found these books and picked out a few books of his own. When told that no, he couldn't have those books, but here's this other book that he gets to take home, he went BALLISTIC.
Ignoring him, I led him to the cards and gift wrap section to pick something out. Well, who knew that the store display was right next to that section and that the entrance was justbigenough for my little maniacal two-year-old to get in and terrorize the books? I certainly didn't. The sidewalk, where the display pointed to, was occupied (thankfully) by just one man who was blowing leaves and who was not at all interested in the shrieking toddler who was slamming into the window trying to get his attention. The patrons in front of the cash register (that was located immediately behind the display), were all, on the other hand, incredibly amused by the screaming, banging, aforementioned child.
Picture it. I'm sweaty and red-faced, trying to balance my wallet, 3 books, a card, gift bag and tissue paper in one hand, while trying to grab the collar of a stubborn little boy who keeps running just close enough to my hand for me to unsuccessfully snatch at him, while onlookers whisper to each other and catch my eyes with winks, smiles and knowing nods. At one point, Oliver flies back behind the cash register on the other side of the display so I holler at the worker to grab him if she catches him. Honestly though, what person in their right mind would grab a kid that wasn't theirs in a department store? I probably would in order to help, but I don't think I fall under the category of "many people."
I set everything down, throw the book that was meant for him to the wayside (ain't no way he's getting that after this), kneel down, take a deep breath, and wait for him to make a mistake. (Because that's all child rearing is, isn't it? Waiting for the opposite team to make a mistake so the game shifts in your favor?) He comes roaring back into the display because the fact that there were people behind the cash register astonished him, and came just close enough for me to grab his hand and drraaaaaaaag him out kicking and screaming. Success (kinda).
I pick him up under my arm like a football, collect what I can of my stuff, and march into the line. There were many people and only one register, but guess what those workers do at that moment? Open up a register JUST FOR ME. It was embarrassing. Horrifying. (But quite liberating at the same time.) I set him down on the counter, because who's going to tell me to get my kid off the counter at this point? I DARE THEM. And pay for two books, a card, tissue paper and a gift bag. Not three books. Ollie notices and starts yelling "Duuuuccckkk!" (the book I offered to purchase for him), and I tell him something to the effect of "not on your life, buster." I gather up my whiny, angry child, my purchase and my dignity and stride out like a woman who had just been a little abused by life but was still managing to shake the hair out of her eyes, the sweat off her nose, and the bra strap off her elbow and walk out the door, counting to ten while trying not to drop her squirming son onto the pavement.
Doug laughed when I told him. But then last night he had an episode of his own that consisted of bartering a giant scoop of rainbow sherbet for one small piece of ham. Nobody won. Including our neighbors who probably hear his tantrum screams from miles away. (I promise we don't beat him.)
Well, I guess I should say that nobody won except the future Oliver. Who will, we hope, someday understand three lessons: you can't always get what you want, you have to eat your meal before you get dessert, and that Mama and Daddy had to be meanies at times in order to be good parents.
Man, this stuff is hard!
Sunday we went to Barnes and Noble to get a birthday present for a friend. It was just he and I, and I found a deal - buy two kids' books and get another for $4.95. Well, that's a steal, right? Ollie, who loves bookstores, went rampaging through while I found these books and picked out a few books of his own. When told that no, he couldn't have those books, but here's this other book that he gets to take home, he went BALLISTIC.
Ignoring him, I led him to the cards and gift wrap section to pick something out. Well, who knew that the store display was right next to that section and that the entrance was justbigenough for my little maniacal two-year-old to get in and terrorize the books? I certainly didn't. The sidewalk, where the display pointed to, was occupied (thankfully) by just one man who was blowing leaves and who was not at all interested in the shrieking toddler who was slamming into the window trying to get his attention. The patrons in front of the cash register (that was located immediately behind the display), were all, on the other hand, incredibly amused by the screaming, banging, aforementioned child.
Picture it. I'm sweaty and red-faced, trying to balance my wallet, 3 books, a card, gift bag and tissue paper in one hand, while trying to grab the collar of a stubborn little boy who keeps running just close enough to my hand for me to unsuccessfully snatch at him, while onlookers whisper to each other and catch my eyes with winks, smiles and knowing nods. At one point, Oliver flies back behind the cash register on the other side of the display so I holler at the worker to grab him if she catches him. Honestly though, what person in their right mind would grab a kid that wasn't theirs in a department store? I probably would in order to help, but I don't think I fall under the category of "many people."
I set everything down, throw the book that was meant for him to the wayside (ain't no way he's getting that after this), kneel down, take a deep breath, and wait for him to make a mistake. (Because that's all child rearing is, isn't it? Waiting for the opposite team to make a mistake so the game shifts in your favor?) He comes roaring back into the display because the fact that there were people behind the cash register astonished him, and came just close enough for me to grab his hand and drraaaaaaaag him out kicking and screaming. Success (kinda).
I pick him up under my arm like a football, collect what I can of my stuff, and march into the line. There were many people and only one register, but guess what those workers do at that moment? Open up a register JUST FOR ME. It was embarrassing. Horrifying. (But quite liberating at the same time.) I set him down on the counter, because who's going to tell me to get my kid off the counter at this point? I DARE THEM. And pay for two books, a card, tissue paper and a gift bag. Not three books. Ollie notices and starts yelling "Duuuuccckkk!" (the book I offered to purchase for him), and I tell him something to the effect of "not on your life, buster." I gather up my whiny, angry child, my purchase and my dignity and stride out like a woman who had just been a little abused by life but was still managing to shake the hair out of her eyes, the sweat off her nose, and the bra strap off her elbow and walk out the door, counting to ten while trying not to drop her squirming son onto the pavement.
Doug laughed when I told him. But then last night he had an episode of his own that consisted of bartering a giant scoop of rainbow sherbet for one small piece of ham. Nobody won. Including our neighbors who probably hear his tantrum screams from miles away. (I promise we don't beat him.)
Well, I guess I should say that nobody won except the future Oliver. Who will, we hope, someday understand three lessons: you can't always get what you want, you have to eat your meal before you get dessert, and that Mama and Daddy had to be meanies at times in order to be good parents.
Man, this stuff is hard!
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