Flaring Tempers

You've been there before.

At the neighborhood park, the grocery store, Target or Wal-Mart... and someone's kid is just trippin'. Acting out. About to blow the fuse.

And you try not to stare, or to judge, but silently? You're thanking your lucky stars it ain't yours.

Of course... there are the days when it IS yours... Like yesterday, for me.

Numbnuts had baseball practice - and I take the Little Shit over to the playground while we're waiting. But after about half an hour, he starts to get bored.

The 4 y/o comes to me, sitting comfortably in my (okay, Hubz's) Steelers chair while I try to catch up with the Anita Blake series. "Mom. I wanna go home."

"Okay hon - when your brother's done with practice, we'll go straight home."

Apparently, that answer wasn't good enough for him. You know how they can be - immediate gratification and all.

Maybe he was just testing me, but he stalked off, and returned, armed. How'd I know he had scooped up a whole bunch of wood chips into his little hands?

Coz the Little Shit done threw them at my feet.

They didn't touch me, not one - he kinda threw them in front of my feet. But in my eyes, that wasn't the point. It was the principle of the matter.

He'd already started stalking off again, arms crossed in front of his chest. But when he saw me get up, he started running. I think he thought I was playing with him - he even started to giggle.

Then he saw my face. Hell. All the kids saw my face. And when I finally caught my little one's arm, we started marching back to where I'd parked the chair - kids stepping aside, not willing to be in my way.

I didn't look at any of them. Not the kids, not the other parents. Not my 14 year old, Einstein, sitting by my chair, trying to do his homework. I only had eyes for one.

As soon as we were on our turf, so to speak, I knelt down in front of him and told him in a clear, low voice:

"We do NOT throw things at Mommy."

But he's already crying, starting to get hysterical. I had to calm him down before he could understand what I was telling him.

And in 2 minutes, we were done talking.

He nodded, said he was sorry, and we hugged.

And then I put his ass in time-out. Four minutes at the fence behind me, and the clock didn't start ticking until he quieted down. Some kids don't believe that Mom will put them in the corner if they're out in public.

Mine know better. Why is it that they have to test it out, though? Test the boundary lines? See how much they can get away with?

*sigh* lol - I guess because that's their job, right? ;)

We played tag when he finished doing his time - somehow, I think he might've been too embarrassed to return to the playground right away.

I love how resilient kids are, though. We still had an hour left to wait before practice was over, and he soon found his way back to the slide. Wood chips, tempers and time-out aside.

Do you remember the last time you had a little one test your boundaries in public?