Tantrums
I was just reading this post – don’t ask how I got there – I just did, ok? http://24hours7daysaweek.blogspot.com/2008/06/bookstore-breakdown.html
It brought up the following memory:
We had foster kids when I grew up. One of them, Jill, was a major pain in the tushy. I mean, Mother Theresa would have gone nuts.
At the time of this story, I think it was me, my two older brothers, Liz, and Jill in the household. Five – not too bad, right? Well, when is the last time you took five kids anywhere? (I can happily say “Never”.) Of course, what happened at the mall has scarred me for life (just kidding Mom!) – so I really am not sure who was there that day. I would guess that Jill was about 13 or 14 – just the right age to be a bitch and have fun doing it.
We were all in the mall. We had to get some stuff at the grocery store (yes – a grocery store IN the mall – amazing, huh?). We got what we went for, waited in line, paid the cashier (you remember the time when you actually had someone ring up your groceries for you, don’t you? And bagged them too?) Afterwards we went to another store – I can’t recall if it was the drug store or a Hallmark store. I am almost thinking it was the Hallmark store since I remember thinking we didn’t go into that store too much. Anyway, Jill saw something she wanted. She asked mom and mom said no. She might have asked again, and if she did, I am sure mom said no again. Then, out of nowhere, Jill launches herself onto the floor. She starts yelling and screaming “I want this! I want this! Gimmie this!” (whatever “this” was!). OH MY GOD!! How horrifying. A TEENAGER… ACTING LIKE A TWO YEAR OLD… IN PUBLIC.
Now, with a two year old, you can scoop them up, hold them down as they hit and flail at you, force them into the car seat and get the heck out of there. Not so easy with a teenager. My mom calmly told the rest of us kids to walk to the car and to ignore Jill. We turned around, headed out the store, out the mall and went to the car. And behind us was my mother, dragging Jill by the arm. Jill was still on the ground, flailing around, screaming and kicking and being a baby. My mom just walked straight ahead, head held up high and dragged that whiny baby to the car. She got Jill into the car, turned around and faced the rest of us. I wasn’t particularly scared of my mother, but I sure wasn’t going to give her a hard time that day. She proceeded to get out some money from her purse, handed it to one of us and said in a loud voice, in front of Jill: “You kids deserve a treat. Go into Friendly’s and everyone can get an ice cream cone.” My older brother led the way, and we came back to the parking lot, all of us with ice cream cones. We ate those ice cream cones on the way home, all the while Jill was still throwing her hissy fit over whatever it was she wanted and wasn’t allowed to get, plus now she was pissed off that WE got ice cream and she didn’t.
I guess the only thing worse than an out of control toddler is an out of control teenager!