I just pulled a crying child off of the conveyor belt at the register of a Winn-Dixie.
Yes, it was my child. He had not taken a nap despite the 3 attempts I'd made since 9 o'clock this morning, and this was not one of those didn't really need a nap kinda days. Tired tots are a lot like the Incredible Hulk; they transform into an uncontrollable beast that thrives on the anger of frustrated parents and caregivers.
Despite my son's episodes of crankiness, he seemed in a good mood after working out at the gym. So when I ran to the store for exactly two items, I didn't anticipate it being a mother-son wrestling match in the aisles of Winn-Dixie. It was horrible!
First off, he now refuses to sit in normal shopping carts. I have to use a clunky one with a child steering wheel attached that doesn't steer with the kiddie wheel OR the normal handle. Does he at least stay quiet and enjoy his mother's ridiculous efforts to calm him while maneuvering an 18 wheeler through the aisles that are not designed big enough for their own carts?
He starts doing an interpretive dance comprised of up, down, jump, scream that must be designed for attracting bad moods because we were both in one by the end of it. And as I'm yelling at him to sit down before he falls out and spills cranky baby brains all over the tile, he grabs my neck and begins to pull himself out. Using the cart as leverage under his little toes, he starts pushing off and standing up to wrap himself around my torso.
By this point, I'm pushing a gigantic cart around the corner while wearing a toddler like a scarf.
I had to bait him into the car with Teddy Grahams--of which he fell asleep with his hand still in the container on the way home. And you know what? I Didn't even make it home with both the things I went to the store for in the first place.
Today's subject line quote is The Hulk, "Ironman" (1994).
3 years ago