Toys 'R Us Tantrum

I don't usually care much what other people think of me. I don't wear clothes I think others will like, I wear clothes I like. I don't change who I am so people will like me, I am who I am. But there is one area of my life where public opinion is always on my mind. My children.

I pride myself on having such well-behaved kids. People comment all the time on how polite they both are, and I know that's because Jimmy and I have taught them to say, "Please" and "Thank You" anytime it's necessary. But I've also been around people when OTHER kids are totally freaking out on their parents and I see the looks and hear the whispers. In fact, one day at Walmart, a lady in the fabric department could hear a kid on the next isle throwing a fit. As I pushed my cart past her, she touched my arm and said, "Aren't you glad your kids are so well-behaved? Can you imagine what kind of parent would let their kid act like that?"

And mine are - for the most part - good kids. Abigail is not a defiant child. She never went through the terrible 2s, and really does, for the most part, seek to obey and please us. It could really mess her up down the road, but so far, I think her TEAAA (therapy expected as an adult) levels are low. Nine times out of ten, she does obey us. Cooper, on the other hand, should be photographed and put on the cover of The Strong Willed Child by Dr. James Dobson. Number 3 - as his grandfather (Number 1) and his father (Number 2) like to call him - is the poster child for kids who could really care less what they are told to do or not do. (Hmmm ... maybe it's the name??? Anyway, that's another blog.) When he wants something, Cooper really wants it. And he's not afraid to whine or stomp to get it. Spankings don't help. Time-outs don't help. We are really kicking into high gear with this one to stop bad behavior.

Which is why today, as we were in the check out line at Toys 'R Us with my mom, the sound I heard from the back of the store pierced me. The wailing got louder and louder as it got closer to the front door until a cart was pushed past the end of the isle and through the check out lines. Every head in the front of the store turned and saw a mother, with a face of fury and rage, as she pulled her kicking and screaming son from the cart and practically ran from the store. Whatever it was he wanted, he didn't get. And he did everything he could to get down and go back inside for it.

I applaud her. For not giving it to him just to shut him up like so many parents do. But my heart also broke for her. Everyone was staring at her wondering what she would do to him when they got outside. You could hear people saying, "My parents would never ..." and even a "My kid would never ..." And I found myself thinking, "Please, God, don't ever let my kid freak out like that."