I guess I should have seen it coming.
She had been so good at church. It couldn't possibly last, could it?
We embarked on our Sunday-morning-after-Mass trip to Sam's Club for the usually staples: Diapers, Gatorade, breakfast bars, etc. How that evolves into a $250-plus order never ceases to amaze me.
"Ooh, I need a pair of shorts."
"Hey, there are those CFL's with the small socket we need."
"Sure, we can use three pounds of Cheese Its."
So, naturally, my 3-year-old has the same reaction.
"Daddy, I wish to have that [$1,000] swing set."
"Momma, can I have this princess dress?"
Of course, we respond with a "no" each time. After about five "no's," the frustration was growing - for both of us, and the whininess was kicking in.
We proceed to checkout, and being lunchtime, we head over to get a bite to eat. Now the three of us had been grazing on samples the whole time in the store, but we needed lunch.
"You can have a hotdog or a piece of pizza," I offer.
"I want a pretzel," she replies.
("Actually, I'd like a pretzel, too," my wife whispers.)
Fine.
I get the pretzel, a slice of pizza and a couple drinks. I offer CJ a bottled water. No. Okay, fine.
Then, it starts:
Her: "I don't want a salt pretzel. I want a sugar pretzel."
Me: "You're not getting a sugar pretzel, you're splitting a salt pretzel with mommy."
Her: "NO! I DON'T WANT A SALT PRETZEL."
By this time, I was fed up.
Me: "OK, FINE you're not getting anything.
At this point, she latches on to my leg to prevent me from leaving with the food, and proceeds to scream - and the top of her lungs - like she's caught in some kind of feedback loop.
"MOMMY! DADDY! HUNGRY!!"
"MOMMY! DADDY! HUNGRY!!"
"MOMMY! DADDY! HUNGRY!!"
"MOMMY! DADDY! HUNGRY!!"
"MOMMY! DADDY! HUNGRY!!"
"MOMMY! DADDY! HUNGRY!!"
"MOMMY! DADDY! HUNGRY!!"
"MOMMY! DADDY! HUNGRY!!"
"MOMMY! DADDY! HUNGRY!!"
"MOMMY! DADDY! HUNGRY!!"
I can't pry away from her grip, so I had the plates over to Amy and scoop her up over my shoulder.
"MOMMY! DADDY! HUNGRY!!"
"MOMMY! DADDY! HUNGRY!!"
"MOMMY! DADDY! HUNGRY!!"
Her voice, echoing throughout the warehouse.
"MOMMY! DADDY! HUNGRY!!"
"MOMMY! DADDY! HUNGRY!!"
As Super Nanny suggests in meltdowns like these, I make a beeline for the exit; but of course, the food is at the other end of the store. So I'm flying past all the checkout lanes, pushing the cart with the baby in the seat, with CJ flipped over my shoulder, continuing her rant.
"MOMMY! DADDY! HUNGRY!!"
"MOMMY! DADDY! HUNGRY!!"
I get to the exit, and the guy there is wanting to see my receipt.
Are you kidding me?
So I'm fumbling into my pocket for the receipt as she continues to wail.
"MOMMY! DADDY! HUNGRY!!"
"MOMMY! DADDY! HUNGRY!!"
He pulls out his little highlighter and marks my receipt -- like I'm going to try to steal something with a nuclear meltdown occurring in my arms. We get outside finally, and I am livid, mortified, befuddled and any other adjective you can think of.
And then the topper.
A concerned gentleman comes over to make sure everything's okay. It seems CJ's "Mommy Daddy" repetition made the guy think I was abducting the girl.
OMG!
I'm of two minds about this. It's nice to know that God forbid something happen like that there are concerned people out there who would take the initiative to help out my girl.
But then there's the, "Oh great, I'm gonna be on a frickin' Amber Alert b/c my daughter didn't get a GD pretzel."
After thanking the man for his concern, and assuring him that she's just mad that she didn't get her pretzel, I get the kids strapped in the car and try to load up as fast as I can to get the hell out of there. By this time, I'm sure there was steam emitting from my ears.
After we stopped for gas, I turned around and lectured her for five minutes.
I did not yell. But I used that stern, piercing, I-cannot-BELIEVE-what-you-just-did "Dad voice" that must be programmed into the y chromosome. I don't remember exactly what I said, other than communicate how I loved her very much, but that I had never been so angry, embarrassed and disappointed as I was.
And as I ticked off each point, the poor thing's quivering lip puffed out farther and farther and she sank lower and lower in her car seat. Amy added the fact that the nice man thought I was stealing her.
I told her I had better get an apology when I got back in after filling up, which I got actually when we got home. It seemed sincere enough.
I'm trying to figure out how it spiraled into such an episode.
She's starting to not nap, so could it just be exhaustion? Perhaps a blood sugar dip? (My mom has a touch of hypoglycemia, so I guess it's possible). Just general 3-year-old drama, pushing boundaries?
But the real question remains:
Should I have just bought her the GD sugar pretzel?
No comments:
Post a Comment