He's Two, What's Your Excuse?

Jacob and I made an excursion to the local toy store today. He wanted to play with the train table; I wanted to get started on ideas for Christmas - win-win. We go to this toy store often. They know us pretty well, and it's the kind of place where there are toys out for the kids to play with, and the atmosphere is very friendly.

Usually.

Today we shared our toy store experience with a wobbly old lady and a child who appeared to be her five year old great-great-great granddaughter (I may be exaggerating a little.) In his enthusiasm while getting from the train table to the toy work bench, Jacob accidentally bumped into the wobbly old lady. I apologized, she sniffed at me, and I decided to stay closer to Jacob than I might have otherwise, just to make sure he didn't bother her again.

Jacob played happily for several minutes. I made notes in my notebook about things I want to purchase for Christmas, and put in an order for a specific Playmobil set that I know Elizabeth is dying to have. I gave Jacob a five minute warning before I planned to leave. In the background, I heard the wobbly old lady give one of the clerks a bit of a hard time because they didn't have a toy doctor kit for sale - just dress up doctor clothes. Once I'd finished making my lists, I told Jacob it was time to go home for lunch.

Cue tantrum.

Jacob, understandably, does not like leaving the toy store. Frankly, neither do I. I'm thirty two and I still want to buy about 90% of what's for sale there. He ran away from me backwards, but I managed to catch him when he was distracted by the shiny rocks in the "pick your own bag of shiny rocks" display. As I hauled my screaming demon out of the store, he flailed, and landed a solid hit right to my face, nearly knocking my glasses off.

Wobbly old lady gasps in horror, and makes The Face.

You know what face I'm talking about. The Face that tells you that the person wearing it is thinking "Good god, woman - get control of your child. If you could call that shrieking hellbeast a child. You are the Worst Parent in the World."

I put my glasses back on, smiled pleasantly at her, and dragged my toddler out of the toy store. She never said a word to me, but The Face stays with you. Amazing how perfect strangers can really make you feel terrible about yourself. My initial inclination was to be embarrassed. I still kind of am.

But I'm also kind of angry. Lady, he is two. It was lunch time. I didn't roll over and bribe him with candy or a toy to get him out of the store. I took my lumps (literally) and hauled his little butt out of there. And you're still going to look at me like I'm everything that's wrong with modern parenting? Screw that.

There's some old advice about how we should always be gentle to each other, because everyone around us is fighting some sort of battle in their lives. Not only do I wholeheartedly agree in general, I think it's especially true for parents. I hope I am never so far removed from my parenting experiences that I can't step back for a second and have some sympathy for someone wrestling with a cranky toddler instead of putting on my judgey pants. You never know what trials someone else is living. And I'll be thankful that the only trial today (so far) has been a crabby two year old.