Tantrums...REally?

After years of watching other people's children, I am that Mom at the grocery store with the screaming child I cannot manage. Well, in truth, I can manage him just fine. Let him scream, it doesn't bother me in the least. It is the other patrons I am concerned about. If we were at home he could scream it out, in the store, where other people's comfort is important, I must distract him with something new until that wears off and then...try again.

Today it was first, holding the cantaloupe. Then after a minute he tried to eat it and I put it in the basket. That allowed for a minute of reaching over his seat to try and reach it, grunting and twisting until his anger built and he started screeching. Next distraction...here, take Mommy's keys. After 30 seconds they are dropped in the back of the cart with the unsuspecting cantaloupe. Next a walk down the card aisle. He is distracted by the pictures and cartoons and finally content, but I find myself thinking...am I really adding more time to this experience by delaying the inevitable. Thus, the trip tracks on. I make jokes. I tear a cup from it's packaging and he pretends to drink out of it, chucks that in the cart and screams. I scold. I act tough. I use my "Mommy's had enough" voice. I poor Almond Milk in the cup and try that again. It lasts a couple sips. He acts theatrical about drinking it, rocking his head back and forth, chucks it on the ground.

On the way to the check-out line, he gets his arms around my waist and tries pulling himself into my arms. He starts to get desperate and begins crying. I pick him up (all 32 pounds of him) on my hip as I unload the cart. Finally when enough space is made I plunk him in the back of the cart as I finish unloading. A lady comments about how well behaved and sweet he is and I say that he's being rather difficult, that this is the only way to keep him from crying or screaming. She giggles as he picks up the rather large cantaloupe. Oh yes, he is cute. Yes, he is strong and acts like such a little man some times. Yes, he is making a liar out of me. She says just that and I smile nervously. Sigh.

He sits pretty and sweet until we get to the car. I unload the groceries, put the cart away, strap him in, strap myself in...and he screams (doesn't cry) SCREAMS, banging his head into seat over and over until we get home. Oh Oliver...we (and probably a lot of future teachers) are really in for it!