So, this was a first. Of all the places for Big Fish (and as you'll see, Little B) to lose it...
It began as a lovely day—warm and sunny, if not a bit muggy. Took both boys to a christening and they behaved like saints. That is, until after wandering the empty halls looking for the service, we found it already in progress and Fish hollered out, “
Here's all the people, Mom!” Luckily the baby-of-honor deflected any attention directed at us by crying out in protest just as the water was poured over his head.
The reception following went well; it was someone else’s kid (not mine!), who melted down, prompting that family’s hasty exit. Fish’s worst offense was taking a cheese slice from the buffet tray, having a bite, and returning it a few minutes later for the next guest to enjoy.
Herein lies my mistake: a quick snooze on the drive from the church to the farm stand does NOT a bona fide nap make. But I didn’t want to miss the strawberry festival, since with the work we're doing on the new house it's rare that the kids are able to enjoy any formal activities, weekend or not.
First, Fish marveled at the strawberries growing on the vines (he later told his dad “they come from the ground”). Then he played in the hay bales with some “friends”—read: kids who’ve never met one another who before long get a little too aggressive with handfuls of straw. I lured him away from that disaster waiting to happen with the promise of a “bal-oon” (he pronounces the first syllable like “pal”). Cute enough, right?
Once we’d burned out on available activities and I had some actual shopping to do, he got tough—running away from me in the small, crowded, aisle-less space—such that I trimmed my grocery list and grabbed just the essentials (this, of course, included the excellent shortcake). On our way out to the car I grabbed this pic of a still-happy kid, who then decided he would NOT hold my hand (as I pushed the baby stroller with the other one) but rather, would walk along the edge of the curb as close to the parked cars as possible. And these cars were pulling in and out frequently.
I asked once, then twice, for his cooperation. The last straw came when he intentionally blocked a store employee from moving past us. I scooped him up in my free arm and headed for the car, his limbs flailing and the volume CRANKED UP.
When we got to the car, he put the stiff body move on me and I couldn’t get him in. All of this was too much for Little B, who to this point had been sleeping peacefully but at that moment lost his cool, too. FINALLY I strapped a sweaty, sobbing Fish into his car seat, and was tapped on the shoulder by a 70-something woman.
Woman: “Dear, I saw you struggling over here and wondered if I could help.”
Me, trying to soothe the baby as I load him into the car: “Oh, thanks, but I’m ok.”
Woman, referring to Fish: “Well, here. Let me calm him down for you.” (Addresses Fish, who doesn’t know WHAT to make of her.) “I’ll bet you’re a good boy, aren’t you? Settle down now, buddy. You’re fine, you’re fine.”
At that moment I’m not sure if I was more miffed by this stranger’s obvious disappointment in my parenting skills and her strong desire to intervene regardless, or by the fact that I realized just then that I'd left my already-paid-for groceries in the store. I tell her this, and she offers to stay with the kids while I retrieve them. I say no thanks.
So I wait in the long line of cars exiting the lot, and when I arrive at the store entrance and can’t find an employee, I snag an unassuming stranger (a Dad-ish looking 50-something) and ask HIM to run in for my bags. I gesture to my two wailing, strapped-in kids and he complies.
Later, when we discussed what happened at the strawberry festival, Fish recalled that "I cried and cried" and that "Mommy was naughty."
"Yes, you make me happy."
Posts
